


The Noble Wolf

by Tonks32



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Humor, Instant Connection, Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Protectiveness, Shapeshifting, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2020-03-06 02:44:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 109,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18842008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tonks32/pseuds/Tonks32
Summary: Cassandra didn't understand exactly why she felt a connection with the sole survivor of the Conclave explosion, but it was hard to ignore. There was more to Owein Trevelyan than met the eye. He was a powerful circle mage and thrust into the chaotic world of the Inquisition trying to get by and doing what he could to heal the fractured world of Thedas.





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> yes, another Cassandra/Trevelyan story. There won't be a lot of retelling of game content but will focus on the relationship and characters. There will be some scene I pull from the game as that's unavoidable though I'm going to put my own spin on them. I'm trying my hand at an instant connect type of thing. Hopefully, you will enjoy! I will update the tags as I post.

   The night of the pre-talks before the big meeting was winding down. Tired to the bone, Cassandra made her way through the winding halls of the temple of sacred ashes. Hopefully, tomorrow would bring the resolution Thedas desperately needed to bring an end to the made forsaken mage-templar conflict. Justinia possessed both the power and passion to force both sides to cease fighting in order to begin the process to make thing better for everyone involved. Or at least Cassandra believed her to be that person. The Divine cared and was entuned to the people plight. All the others who’ve attempted such talks always had a secret agenda. Justina’s intentions were transparent for the world to see.

   Only the Maker and time would tell if the Conclave would work.

   Sensing magic nearby, Cassandra changed her course, following the pull in her veins from Lyrium towards one of the main chambers. As she grew closer, the feel of the magic began to change. She frowned at the foreign sensation. It felt wrong and almost painful. She’d never experienced anything like it before. Hairs on the back of her neck raising, Cassandra reached for the hilt of her sword only to come up empty. She cursed remembering she came to the temple unarmed on Justina’s request.

   A hand clamped hard on her shoulder, her gasp muffled by another as she was yanked into the shadows before she could make it to the door. Cassandra found herself pressed against the wall, held in place by a rather tall muscular body. The hand on her shoulder shifted, circling her neck causing her nerves to spike.

   “Stay quiet.” A male voice hissed into her ear, breath scorching across her flesh.

   There was magic flowing in his veins. Cassandra felt it churning and pulsating in time of the stranger’s ragged breathing. Closing her eyes, she grounded herself, ignoring the mounting panic, and focusing on the Lyrium using her Seeker ability to set it aflame.

  Surprisingly, the man didn’t release her. Simply jerked, pressed harder against her and let out a low stream of curses. “You’re the Seeker,” He spoke in pants. “Justina’s left hand?”

   Momentarily distracted, Cassandra lost her hold on the Lyrium. “And who are you?”

   “A friend.”

   “Friends don’t accost people and drag them into the shadows.”

   “trust me, Seeker. I am not your enemy. You can sense the Lyrium, no? I mean not what’s inside me, but that room.”

   Cassandra nodded.

   “And the closer you got it started feeling different.” The man eased his grip ever so slightly, but firm enough to subdue her if necessary. “I’ve been watching from the shadows. Watched men in armor with no seal carting boxes into the room since the meeting started.”

   Her curiosity outweighed her discomfort. “Crates of what?”

   “I’m not sure.”

   “Did you hear something?” A voice from the room asked.

   Cassandra found herself being spun around and flatten once more by the mysterious man’s body. Instinctively, her hands shot to his shoulders. Maker, he was tall. At least three if not four inches more than her. He was lean, his muscles stretching the fabric of his tunic. “What are-.” The rest of her question was muffled against his hand. She couldn’t quite hold back her gasp, one of surprise with a hint of desire, the moment he buried his face in her throat. What in Thedas was this man thinking?

   He caught her fist in his large hand, pinning it above her head. “Play along, my dear Seeker,” He whispered against her skin. “We’re less likely to draw attention as two lovers than two spies.”

   Lovers! Cassandra bit into his hand, hard, earning her in return, a not to gentle nip at the tender flesh at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.  Maker, preserve her. A soft groan slipped past her guard. A heat, something she hadn’t felt for quite some time, began to pool in her belling making her curse herself to the fade and back. It’s been far too long since she’d been with a man.

   Copper eyes flashed upwards, gleaming with mirth and excitement.

   “It was nothing.” A new voice, harsher than the first, assured. “We must hurry. The trap is set.”

   Trap? Cassandra wondered. What type of trap? And for who?

   “Where are the rest of our men?” The first voice demanded.

   “On their way,” The second replied. “We had to wait for the guards to go back to Haven.”

   The temple was defenseless? Surely there were still some stationed at the entrance. And the grounds weren’t completely empty. Many rooms were occupied by both mages and templars trying to prepare for the negations in the morning.

   “You need to get help,” The mysterious stranger commanded.

   “We should take them out now,” Cassandra insisted.

   Copper eyes narrowed. “I can’t help but notice that you’re lacking your weapon, Seeker.”

   Cassandra cursed. She’d forgotten about that. “And you?”

   “Seeing how you were about to turn the Lyrium in my blood into liquid fire, I assume you know I don’t need a piece of steel to protect myself.”

   She hesitated.

   “You’re wasting precious time if you’re about to argue.”

   Sighing, Cassandra nodded. “I’ll be back. Stay low if you can manage.” He caught her by surprise when he seized her by the arm, even more so, when he crushed his mouth to hers. The kiss was quick, hard, and mind-numbing.

   His eyes shimmered in the dim light. “In case we don’t see each other again. Now, go!”

   Cassandra took off, sticking to the shadows while keeping her steps light so not to make a sound. Part of her wanted to warn the people she saw, people she knew, but she didn’t know exactly what to warn them about. Something was happening. Something sinister and dangerous. She could feel it in her gut. She would need more than that to evacuate the entire temple.

   Outside, the air burned her lungs as she skidded down the snowy path. Lights from Haven glowed brightly against the darkening sky. There were no guards on the path or bridge leading from the temple sending up red flags. They had pairs stations all down the mountain and now they were gone.

   Where were they?

   The question fled from her mind as a loud crack filled the air. Whirling around, Cassandra saw a bolt of green light bursting down from the sky hitting the heart of the temple. Next came the explosions, followed by the shockwave that began to its destructive ripple down the mountain. Then there was nothing but blackness as Cassandra was blasted off her feet.

00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

    Cassandra awoke to a deep ache in her bones, accompanied by the mother of all headaches. Fighting the heaviness of her limbs, she reached up, fingers brushing the gash streaking across her right cheekbone. Focusing on her surroundings, she realized that’s when she was in the quarters, she shared with Leliana back at Haven. Her brows knotted. How did she get back here? She searched her clouded mind. The last thing she remembered was the mage than the explosion.

   “Justina.” Springing up in bed, Cassandra cried at the pain shooting up her left side. She gingerly poked at her ribs and found her armor gone.

   “Easy now, Cassandra.”

   Her gaze shifted to the redhead moving to her side. Cassandra could tell by the heavy bag beneath the Spymaster’s eyes that things were bad. “How long have I been out?”

   “Two days. You got caught in the shockwave in the explosion.” Emotions flooded Leliana’s voice. “It was a miracle we even found you. There was so much destruction.”

   “The Most Holy?”

   Leliana’s gaze dropped.

   Tears burned the back of Cassandra’s throat. “Maker have mercy on her soul. I can’t… This is… Gone.” That meant all those people she decided not to warn were dead. Suddenly sick to her stomach, Cassandra scrambled out of bed, making it to the chamber pot in times before her stomach emptied.

   Dampening a cloth in the wash bin, Leliana crossed the room and knelt beside the Seeker. “We don’t know what happened.” She pressed the cool cloth to the warrior’s neck. “People recall a pulse of green light before the temple shattered and the sky tore open.”

   Cassandra braced herself against the pot. “Tore open?”

   “We’re calling it the breach,” Leliana softly explained. “Whatever caused the destruction at the temple also ripped on the vail to the fade. Demons have been falling from the sky and there are smaller rifts scattered around the temple.”

   “But how?” Cassandra thought back to right before the explosion. To the magic that didn’t feel right and the mage in the shadows.    

   “No one knows.”

   Cassandra glanced up. “Were there any survivors?”

   “One. Once Cullen and his men made it to the ruins, a rift appeared and a man fell out.”

   “Of the Fade?”

   “So, it would seem.”

   “Has he said anything?”

   Leliana shook her head. “He’s been unconscious. He had this strange mark on his hand. It almost matches the tare in the sky. Solas confirmed that two are connected.”

   After listening to Leliana explain Solas’s hunch and how he stabilized this ‘anchor’ to keep it from killing the sole survivor, Cassandra stood on shaky limbs. “I want to see him.”

   “There is no point, Cassandra. The man is unconscious and you’re lucky to be alive yourself. The healer said you had massive internal bleeding, not to mention, they had to reassemble your shattered leg.”

   The room began to spin. “I’m fine.”

   “I would be inclined to believe you if you said that with even an ounce of confidence.”

   Cassandra fought Leliana’s logic. “I need to see this prisoner.” Her voice hitched and tears started to fall. “I need to do something.”

   “I know.” Leliana helped the Seeker lay back down. She wrestled from a moment, though adding to her friend’s grief was the last thing she wanted, Leliana didn’t want Cassandra to hear the news from someone else. “You need to know. Galyen hasn’t returned.”

   Cassandra’s head shot up. “What?”

   Tears filled Leliana eyes. “I’m sorry, Cass. He’s been counted among the dead at the temple.”

   Heart aching, Cassandra turned her face into her pillow, muffling her sob. Grief overwhelmed her. Not only did she lose a woman she respected and admired, but she also lost the only man she’d ever love. granted, they hadn’t been anything more than friends in years he was still her first and therefore would always have a piece of her heart. Cassandra felt the mattress dip as Leliana climb into the bed, carefully gathered her close so they could grieve together.

    The next morning, Cassandra ignored the healers warning, downed on her armor and set out to assess the damage herself. Everything seemed to be in chaos. Leliana informed her that Cullen and his men were posted up the mountain near one of the ‘rifts’, fighting relentlessly the demons that kept spilling out. Cassandra sprung into action. It was the only way to block out the heaviness of sorrow over the death of the two people she loved dearly.

   People needed guidance. Order. Cassandra was quick to provide both. Setting patrols, sending relief for Cullen, and rearrange a more efficient triage for the large amount of wounded. The first day passed in a blur. Cassandra didn’t allow herself even a moment of rest. Not when there was more to be done.

   “Cassandra.” Leliana found her on the third day after the explosion outside the main gates of Haven, pulling the Seeker from her in-depth conversation with Cullen’s second in command. “The prisoner is stirring.”

   Cassandra handed the clipboard off to Rylen. “As soon as you get your unit together, head to the Commander’s position.”

   Clicking his heels together, Rylen saluted before rushing off.

   With renewed energy helping suppress the pain from still healing body, Cassandra gripped the hilt of her sword. “Let’s go.” She fell in step beside Leliana. “Do we have any idea who this man is?”

   The Spymaster shook her head. “All we know is that he is a mage.”

   Cassandra faltered for a moment. “A mage?”

   “But Solas doesn’t believe that his magic is what caused the explosion or the Breach.”

   “Are we any closer to figuring what did?”

   “Solas and Varric took off for the temple to further our investigation.” At the cellar, Leliana motions for the two guards to stand down.

   Anger surging, Cassandra kicked open the door with enough force it cracked the stone it crashed into. A man, shackled and kneeling in the center of the room, grunted as a green light sparked from the palm of his left hand.  Inching closer, she found the man to be on the tall side with his fair share of muscles with a thick mane of hair comprising of a mixture of several multitude shades of brown and gold. She’d never seen anything like it. “Who are you.”

   The man’s head jerked up at the sound of his voice.

   Cassandra became rooted to the spot the moment his copper gaze found hers. Instantly, she recognized him as the mage from the temple, the one she thought surely had died in the explosion. All of her hatred she harbored for the sole survivor seemed to dissolve in an instant. Cassandra knew nothing of the man kneeling the in center of the room, shackled, with a green glow streaking across his palm. Yet, she found herself positively staggered by the pair of copper eyes staring at her.

   The prisoner perked up, trying to stand only to be roughly shoved back to his knees by a nameless guard. “Seeker, you’re alive.”

   Leliana watched the pair with great interest. “You know this man?”

   “Not really. I-.” Cassandra tapered off before her voice could betray the turmoil inside her. She didn’t know him, but there was something pulling at her, pulling her closer to him and finding a sense of familiarity. Cassandra couldn’t quite explain or truly begin to describe the feeling. What she could admit was she found herself relieved to see that he was alive. “He was at the temple. The night of the explosion.”

    Leliana’s demeanor changed, becoming hostile as her hand witched over the hilt of her dagger. “He was there?” She demanded wanting the verbal confirmation before she unleashed her furry.

   Cassandra found herself standing between her closest friend and the mage prisoner. “He was. Wait!” She held up a hand to keep Leliana at bay. There was murder in the redhead’s eyes meant for man handcuffed behind her. And Cassandra couldn’t blame her. After all, he lived while the Divine had perished. “Leliana, don’t!”

   He was there!” Leliana hissed. “And the only survivor. Don’t tell me it’s a mere coincidence he’s alive while everyone is dead.”

   “There were others in the back room of the temple.” Cassandra defended unsure why she felt compelled to do so. What in Thedas did that mean? Shaking her head, Cassandra refocused on the more pressing matter at hand.  “They were moving crates. It felt like Lyrium, but different. Wrong even.”

   Leliana sneered. “And how do you know that this prisoner wasn’t part of that? That he wasn’t there to distract you while things were put into place?”

   “Owein,” The man spoke sitting up taller on his knees. He didn’t need his staff to use his magic to free himself from the predicament he was in. Sadly, that wouldn’t do anything to credit him as a good guy. He caught Cassandra’s quick glance pleading with him to stand down. To allow her to help him. As hard as it was, Owein recalled his magic. “The name is Owein Trevelyan.”

   “He saved my life by sending me for help,” Cassandra reminded hoping to reason with her fellow hand of the Divine. “If it was his wish to destroy the Conclave, destroy everything the Most Holy was working for and about to do, why didn’t he convince me to say so I perished to?”

   “Need I remind you, Seeker, you nearly died buried under several feet of rubble,” Leliana reminded, her eyes darkening with each passing second. “That you surely would’ve succumbed to your injuries if we had not found you.”

   Cassandra shifted, countering the rogue’s movements. Later, much, much later, Cassandra would try to unravel the mystery of her excessive need to protect Owein. “Only because I went back. I had to warn them. Warn Justinia.”

   Owein sat back on his heels. “The Divine is dead?”

   “If you think you can fake sorrow and surprise, you’re only fooling yourself,” Leliana grumbled unsheathing her dagger.

   “I didn’t do this! I don’t know what this bloody thing is on my hand either!” Owein screamed in defense. He fought against his instinct to fight and allow the Seeker to protect him. “I remember sending the Seeker to get help. There were voices.” Pain exploding in his temple, he rubbed it hoping to ease the discomfort in order to focus on the muddled images in his brain. “A flash of green. Then I was running for my life in a place I’ve never seen. Running towards a woman.”

   Cassandra whirled around. “What woman?”

   Deflated, his shoulders hunched. “I don’t know. Whomever she was, she was trying to help me. Guiding me before there was nothing but blackness. Next thing I knew I woke up here.” Owein’s gaze found Cassandra’s once more. He had to convince her-no-needed her to believe him. To know that he had no part in whatever tragedy that happened. Seeing the glint of a blade, Owein scrambled back and onto his feet. Unfortunately, his shackles were attached by a chain that was anchored to the floor. “I didn’t do anything! For fuck’s sake, I don’t even know what happened.”

   “Lair!” Leliana started to charge.”

   “No.” Cassandra intercepted her friend taking Leliana firmly by the wrist. For a moment, she feared the rouge would fight her and after the last few days, that was the last thing Cassandra wanted. Emotions were running high. They needed to remain, as hard as it was, level headed. “Regardless of what may or may not have happened, we need him.”

   Leliana sneered.

   “That mark on his hand matches the one in the sky.” Cassandra disarmed Leliana and gently pushed her away. “Go to the forward camp, Leliana.”

   “fuck that,” Leliana argued. “I won’t leave you in this mad man’s presence. I won’t-can’t risk losing you.”

   Owein stopped fighting his restraints. “If it’s consolation to you, the last thing I want is to bring the Seeker harm.” Not even if it meant his chance at freedom. From the first moment he saw Cassandra, Owein felt an unprecedented need to protect her. Plus, he wanted to find out what was going on and what exactly he was being accused of.

   Realizing the situation was escalating to a breaking point, Leliana took a reluctant step back. “And I’m supposed to believe simply because you gave me your word.”

   Once against, Cassandra gravitated towards Owein. “I do.”

   Leliana arched a brow.

   Cassandra would have to sort all these feelings later. For now, they had more pressing matters to address. “He had ample opportunity to kill me the night before the explosion and didn’t act.” Handing the dagger back hilt first, Cassandra prayed to the Maker she wasn’t making a grave mistake. That she wasn’t allowing whatever was drawing her towards Owein to cloud her judgment. “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will bring the pris-Owein.” Saying his name made her heart pound in her chest. “Along after I show him exactly what’s going on.”

   Huffing in disagreement, Leliana sheathed her blade. “I hope I don’t have to stay I told you so or you don’t end up with a knife in your back.”

   Neither did she, Cassandra silently thought. “Go. We’ll meet you up on the mountain.” Once they were alone, Cassandra turned on her heels, coming face to face with the mysterious mage. Maker, he was tall, so much so, she had to tilt her head back slightly to get a proper look at him. “Let me see your hands.”

   Owein held out his cuffed wrists. “Do you believe that I have nothing to do with the explosion?”

   Chewing on her bottom lip, Cassandra fished the key from her pocket. Something was telling that he hadn’t, but Cassandra struggled to truly accept that. “I don’t know,” She softly confessed, releasing the first cuff. “I do know you’re a mage and could’ve easily blasted your way out of here and to freedom the moment you awoke.”

   Cocking his head to the side, Owein studied the woman’s stern expression. “And what does that tell you, Seeker?”

   “Cassandra. My name is Cassandra,” She corrected unlatching the second cuff. “And that tells me one of two things. One, you’re simply biding your time to continue out whatever plan you started at the temple.”

   “Or?”

   “Or.” Cassandra found herself seeking his copper eyes. Wondering once again why she found a sense of familiarity in them. “You’re completely clueless to what is happening outside these doors.”

   “And which do you believe, Cassandra?”

   The sound of her name rolling in his Free Marcher accent mixed with an unplaceable one caused a shiver to start up her spine. As difficult as it was, Cassandra ignored it. Ignored him and the way she felt under his intense gaze. “Does it matter?”

   “To me it does,” Owein stated. Actually, he was taken aback at how much her opinion of him mattered. He shifted closer, drawn to her just like the night in the temple. Why? Owein couldn’t say. What did it mean? He hadn’t the faintest idea.

   “Come,” Cassandra bided without answering his question. “It’s time for you to see what has happened.”

   Hand still bound by cord, Owein fell in step behind her, left one twitching painfully the closer they drew to the door. She took him through an entrance that he could tell wasn’t normally used, but concluded it was the fastest route out from the call. The man standing guard gave him a look of death before complying to the Seeker’s command to open the door.

   Cassandra classed over her shoulder. “Stay closer.”

   “Right behind-argh!” Owein was blinded by the bright sunlight. A harsh reminded that it had been quite some time since he stepped outside. Raising his hands to shield his eyes, he stopped short seeing the violent green clouds swirling in the sky. “What in the Fade is that?”

   Cassandra curled her hand around the hilt of her sword. “People are calling it the Breach. It appeared right before the explosion, spewing demons out.”

   “Wh-shit!” The mysterious mark attached to his palm came flaring to life, green light engulfing his hand as a searing pain radiated up his arms and bringing him to his knees. Bowing his head, Owein cursed, struggling to keep himself upright and now sprawling fast first into the snow.

   Cassandra knelt in front of the prisoner, brows knotted in confusion, trying to recognize the language he was speaking. Even if she didn’t understand the words, she heard the pain lacing his voice. “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads.” Cassandra fought the sudden urge to reach out to touch him. To comfort. Help him bare his pain. “It’s killing you.”

   “Of course, it is,” Owein huffed, speaking common once again. His gaze latched onto hers. “What can I do?”

   A frown crossed his face. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

   “This thing, this mark.” He fished his left hand. “It can close the Breach?”

   “In Theory.”

   “Then take me to it.”

   “Here.” Freeing the knife from her boot, Cassandra carefully cut the cord around the man’s wrists. She simply shrugged at his arched brow. “Hopefully, I won’t have to say I told you so to Leliana.”

   With her assistance, Owein settled back on his feet. “I don’t hurt you, Cassandra.”

   And for some unknown reason, she believed him. Once they closed the Breach, she would put effort into figuring out why. “The path back to the temple is treacherous. Demons have been raining down from the sky at an alarming rate.”

   “Wonderful.”

   “I know you can fight without one.” Cassandra found a staff near the main gate. She offered it to him. “No sense in sending you other there with no means to truly protect yourself.”

   Owein carefully took it. “And how do you know I won’t use it to blast you and make a run for it.”

   “I don’t,” Cassandra simply answered. “Then again you had a chance to do so before and yet here we are. Now, stay close and follow me. Are you a skilled fighter?”

   Twirling the staff to check its weight, He sent her a cocky smile. “I can hold my own.”

   “Good.” Cassandra took the shield from her back while ordering the gates to be opened. “I pray to the Maker we’ll make it to the forward camp. The demons are plentiful. If we don’t close the Breach soon, I fear-.”

   “Then lead the way, my lady,” Owein insisted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ps I suck at summaries!


	2. Welcome to the Inquisition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKay, I know I said I wouldn't be using much in-game dialogue, but with this chapter, it couldn't be avoided.

    Owein slowly awoke, his eyes adjusting to the pale candlelight, his mind registering the deep aches and pain of his body. A trace of lavender hung in the air mixed with oils used to polish metal. He instantly recognized it as Cassandra’s. Mustering the strength, Owein rolled, eyes finding a table and chair set up close to his bedside. There were a few dead candles, crumbled pieces of parchment, and a bookmarked book, all the tell signs that someone had spent a large amount of time there. The half-burnt candle said, whoever it was, though his bet it being Cassandra, left not too long ago.

   Where was she now? Better question, where was he?

   Looking around the cabin, Owein didn’t recognize any of his surroundings. His guess he was back at Haven. Now, how he ended up laying in clean clothes on a bed he didn’t own, was anyone’s guess.

   Time to find answers.

   Though it took far longer than he liked Owein managed to sit on the edge of the bed, sharp pain radiating up his left rib cage. A glint of green caught his attention. He lifted his left hand and cursed to the Fade and back.

   The light was fainter than before, yet the jagged mark on his palm was still there. Guess Solas’s theory of if he closed the Breach it would close the anchor and removed the unknown magic inside him was wrong.  If the mark was still there, did that mean he failed to seal the Breach? Owein tried to think back and remembered the Pride demon. Remembered the indescribable pain of using the mark. Remembered the muffled cries of those that fought alongside him. Then the blackness. Owein had been so sure it was the permeant kind.

   “Oh!” A meek voice came from the front of the cabin. “You’re awake! They said-she-I mean, forgive me, my lord.”

   “It’s alright,” Owein softly assured unsure why the female elf refused to meet his gaze. “Who are you?”

   “Thena, my lord.” She clutched a box to her chest. “I was tasked to bring you some warmer clothes.”

   “By who?”

   “The Seeker, my lord.”

   “Please, call me Owein. I’m not a Lord.” Standing, he glanced at the table wondering how long Cassandra stayed at his side. “Where is she?”

   Thena shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “Up in the Chantry.” She carefully placed the box at the end of the bed. “I’m sure she would want you to join if you can manage. There are healing potions-.”

   Owein cut off the elf’s rambling short. “Is the Breach closed?”

   “It has stopped growing like the mark on your hand.” Thena, not to subtly glanced at the green light radiating from the mage’s hand. “They said you saved us. That’s all anyone has talked about for three days.”

   “Three days?” Owein fisted his hand to trap the light. “Are you saying they’re pleased?” Well, that was a drastic turn around from them calling for his head on a spike.

   “That’s what I’ve been hearing. They, well some, not all, are calling you the Herald of Andraste.:”

   His head snapped up. “Heard of what now?”

   Thena wrung her hands together. “It’s been going around town. Your story of how you escaped the Fade. Of the woman who helped you.”

   Owein caught himself before he could sigh. “I doubt it was Andraste herself.”

   “That what most-some believe.”

   “Andraste helping a mage, bestowing him the title of Herald in her name,” Owein whispered on a soft chuckle. “Can’t be going over that well.”

   “Then dress and make your way to the chantry.” Thena insisted as she retreated towards the door. “You shall see for yourself what the people believe.”

   Alone once more, Owein tugged the box closer to find a thick thermal tunic, a coat, a tan tunic, and fur-lined boots. Looking at it, he already felt warmer. Maker, he hated the damn snow. The ice and cold. He preferred the warm temperatures of the South Basin or even the Dales. He hoped that after he left the Free arches, he wouldn’t see another blighted winter to this caliber again.

   Working through the soreness of his body, Owein stood to dress. He needed answers and he wouldn’t find them hold up in here. They were with Cassandra in the Chantry. Thinking of the woman, of the last image of her fierce battle face, coated in blood and sweat, got his blood pumping. Pleased wasn’t quite the right word knowing the Seeker walked away from the battle at the Temple. Overjoyed? Elated?

   Well, he was something and it was about time Owein started figuring out what that something was.

   His walk-through Haven up to the Chantry was far more interesting then he was expecting. People, by the dozens, lined up on the path, all vying to get a look at him. There were plenty of whispers. Many praised him, the Herald of Andraste, for stopping the relentless demon attacks and closing the rifts up the mountain. Others damned him for being a mage. There was no mistaking the hatred being the words.

   Owein kept his head up high, far from being ashamed for being born with the gift of magic. Scouting out the town before the explosion, he knew Templars, well former ones took up residence in the town along with mages cast out into the real world once the circles fell.  For now, he ignored the heated gazes and harsh words as he worked his way to the Chantry.

   Once inside, it wasn’t hard to find Cassandra. Owein could hear her steely voice coming from the back, rather loudly, all the way from the front door. She was going rounds with someone. Owein felt sorry for whoever the poor soul was. Well, that was until he opened the door to find that poor soul was Rodrick. The man was leaning against a large table that held a map of the area while Cassandra, arms crossed over her chest, glared t him and Leliana stood silently in the corner.

   “Chain him!” Rodrick commanded to the two guards right inside the room. “Now!”

   Cassandra’s head whipped to the side. “Disregard that,” She countered, eyes of steel softening once they landed on him. “And leave us.”

   Unable to tare his gaze from hers, Owein heard the clanking of armor as the guards complied to the Seeker’s order. It was clear who held the higher authority here. She looked tired, he silently mused, though she was trying to mask it. Her darken complexion almost ashen with a gash running along her right cheekbone and bruising on her forehead spoke to him. An urge was building to cross the room and touch her to assure himself that this wasn’t some illusion of the Fade.

   Rodrick pushed away from the table. “You’re walking a thin line, Seeker.” His tone turned into a growl. “A very dangerous one.”

   Cassandra pulled her gaze from the mage, eyes hardening once again. “The Breach is stable, but still a threat. I will not ignore it.”

   Left hand prickled almost as if it was feeding off his churning emotions, Owein set his jaw. “I tried to close the Breach. It nearly killed me, in case you forgot.”

   “Yes, you live,” Rodrick stated. “Very convenient result as far as you’re concerned.”

   Like before in the cell, Cassandra jumped to Owein’s defense, putting herself between the mage and Rodrick. “Have a care, Chancellor. The Breach is not the only threat we face.”

   Leliana spoke, far more calmly then Owein heard before. “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone the Most Holy didn’t suspect.”

   Owein enjoyed the way Rodrick sputtered under the accusation thrown at him. Owein was hoping the man might be stupid enough to bring the argument to blows. Up ontop the mountain, Owein wanted to deck the damn Chancellor to shut his mouth. Surprise took over when Leliana countered Rodrick’s allegation towards Owein.

   Wasn’t that interesting.

   “I’m a suspect when the prisoner is not?”

   A low growl caught in Owein’s throat. “I have a name, you know.”

   Rodrick dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

   “No.” Cassandra shifted, standing beside the mage in a silent show of support. There was that force drawing them together once more. “You weren’t at the Temple. It was like an echo. I heard the Most call out to him for help.”

   “The man is a mage,” Rodrick spoke in pure disgust. “An apostate. He could’ve snuck in with the rebel mages and orchestrated this whole thing.”

   Owein stepped forward, a spell playing at the tips of his fingers, only stopping when Cassandra placed a soothing hand on his arm. The fire receded. “Regardless of what you think, only a cold heart person could kill all those innocent people. Kill the one woman with the determination to mend bridges between Templars and Mages. Not all of us agreed with what happened in Kirkwall.”

   “But, again, you are here and Justina is not,” Rodrick plainly stated.

   Cassandra gave Owein’s arm a comforting squeeze before she let go. “Providence. The Maker sent him to us in our desperate hour of need.”

   Rodrick sneered. “I doubt the Maker nor Andraste would choose a mage as the chosen one.”

   Owein made a noise in the back of his throat. “I think that will be the only thing we’ll agree on, Chancellor.”

   Not deterred by the man’s words, Cassandra glanced at Owein. “We are all subject to the will of the Maker, whether we wish it or not. Regardless, you were exactly what we needed.”

   Enamored by the sheer belief in her voice, Owein regarded the Seeker with admiration.

   “The Breach remains,” Leliana reminded. “And your mark is still our only hope of closing it.”

   Mouth twitching, Owein arched a brow. “Do you still want to kill me?”

   The redhead pinned him with a glare. “The matter is still up for debate.”

   “There should be no debate!” Rodrick angrily argued. “He should be in chains and on his way to Val Royeaux to be tried.”

   “Executed, you mean?” Owein corrected.

   Cassandra slammed a thick tome onto the table silencing everyone in the room. “You know what this is, Chancellor.”

    Owein eyed the tome, the symbol on the cover unfamiliar. “I don’t.”

   Laying a hand on the tome, emotions flooded Cassandra’s voice even as she maintained a stoic expression. “A writ from the Divine herself, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment.” Spine straight and gaze firm, she took a step back. “I declare the Inquisition reborn.”

   Owen saw the spark in the Seeker as she marched over to Rodrick, drilling her finger repeatedly into the man’s chest as she fervently promised that they would close the Breach. Find the ones responsible for it and the explosion. Stop the threat from spreading. All, with or without, the chantry’s approval. For some reason, Owein felt a sense of pride seeing Cassandra take a stand, giving a big ‘fuck you’ to Rodrick and any like him who wanted to stand in their way. She simply wanted to do what was right and so did Owein. Regardless of the prejudices against him.

   Glaring, Rodrick wrenched himself away from Cassandra. “Don’t expect me to weep over your body when this abomination leads you to your death.”

   Owein snatched the Chancellor by the front of his robes. “Watch yourself, Rodrick,” He growled, baring his teeth. “As you’ll be the one eating your own words and begging the Seeker’s forgiveness when her efforts save your ass from the flames of the Fade.”

   “Owein,” Cassandra calmly spoke. “Let him go.”

   Once free, Rodrick stormed out from the room.

   “So, you’ll stay?” Leliana asked, a touch of surprise in his voice.

   “Guess I’ll have to add you to the list of people I’ll prove wrong.” Though instincts were telling him to get as far away as humanly possible, Owein promptly ignored them. This was more about clearing his name. More to prove to the likes of people in line with Rodrick that mages weren’t evil. As Cassandra pointed out, there was a threat looming ready to consume Thedas that people were ignoring. Owein would work with the Seeker, this Inquisition, to see it eradicated. And, while doing so, bring justice to all those lives lost in the explosion. “So, please, curve your desire to kill me until after I close the Breach.”

   The corner of Leliana’s mouth lifted. “I’ll do my best.”

   “Are you two done?” Cassandra impatiently asked. “We have much to do.”

   Owein bowed his head. “My apologize, my lady.”

   “Leliana, summon both Cullen and Josephine,” Cassandra ordered. “We will need to get the word out, write a proclamation about the formation of the Inquisition.”

   “Exactly what is the Inquisition?” Owein asked once again.

   Cassandra ran the tips of her fingers over the symbol. “It was Justina’s fail-safe.”

   “Did she believe the talks would not work?”

   She hoped with every fiber of her being,” Cassandra answered fighting to keep her voice steady and not betray the heavy sorrow weighing down her heart. “She wished for all the fighting and bloodshed to be over. The Inquisition was only meant to be used as a means to keep order. To preserve the peace, she so desperately wanted.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

    After the turmoil of Rodrick and the deceleration of the Inquisition, Cassandra set out to find the Herald close to sundown. There had been no chance to speak with him one on one.  Josephine and, no doubt, Leliana were both using every resource to their name to find out who was Owein Trevelyan. Cassandra preferred a more direct approach. Plus, there was a need to understand the emotions he stirred within her.

   Owein spotted her, bathed in the light of the setting sun, as he was finishing putting up his tent outside the main gates of Haven. “Done rousing the troops and inspiring the downtrodden?”

   “I wasn’t-.”

   “You were offering them hope,” He quickly cut her off. Seeing her, standing strong, facing the people of Haven to lay out the Inquisition’s plans, promising to avenge the lives lost, Owein had never seen anything like it in his life. Back at the temple, during his time blending in with the face of Haven, he had been attracted to her out of curiosity. Now, he admired her for her passion. Her faith. Her drive. “You saw they were drowning and took action.”

   “I am a woman of action,” Cassandra explained. “I do not see the benefits of standing in the middle of a fire to simply complain it’s hot.”

   “Not only a woman of action but also practical.” Owein sent her a smile. “A deadly combination.”

    Fighting a blush, Cassandra changed the subject. “Are you unable to find suitable lodging?”

   Owein placed a pack inside the small tent. All that was inside was a bundle of furs, a bedroll, and a lantern, but it was more than enough for now. “There are plenty. I simply prefer a tent when I can use one.”

   “An odd statement from a circle mage as I’m sure there weren’t many opportunities.”

   “It was in Ostwick if you were wondering, which I know you are,” Owein added with a flash of a charming smile. “It’s why you’re here out in the cold when you should be winding down and celebrating sticking it to Rodrick.”

   “That wasn’t why I instated the Inquisition.”

   “But you have to admit, it was a nice added bonus.”

   Cassandra couldn’t stop the smile. She found herself at ease with the man. “Yes, it was.”

   “You should do that more.”

   “Do what?”

   Ducking down, Owein checked the last stake he impaled into the ground. “Smile. It’s a formidable weapon you have to go along with your sword and shield.”

   Flustered, Cassandra tried not to be disarmed by his charm. She prided herself on the ability to remain unphased by such things. Even Galyen had to wear her walls down. Owein, it seems, have found the cracks and nestled himself through at an alarming rate. “Why were you at the Conclave, Trevelyan?”

   “Straight to the point.” Owein liked that. Brushing the snow from his hands, he stood. “The same as any other mage, to hear or rather see what the outcome of the talks would be,” Owein noted his vague answer displeased her. For some reason that didn’t sit right with him. “Do you still think I had anything to do with the explosions?”

   “No, I don’t think you did,” Cassandra earnestly answered. In truth, there wasn’t a moment she suspected him. “You’re innocent, but there is more going on here than we see.”

   Tilting his head, his copper gaze found her dark ones. “Do you think I’m this chosen on? This Herald of Andraste.”

   Why did she find him eyes incredibly comforting? Cassandra didn’t dwell on that thought for too long. She was far too tired and worried about what answer she would come up with in such a state. “I think you were sent here to help us. Though in what capacity, I yet do not know. I trust and believe when you said you wished to help us right wrongs and close the breach.” Seeing the anguish on his face as they walked through the remains of the temple shift into determination told Cassandra a lot about Owein. Helped her understand he was not a man to stand by while injustice plagued the land. “May I ask you one more question before I leave you to rest?”

   Owein raised a brow. “Only one? I figured you would have a sack full.”

   “It’s been a long day and you’re still recovering from the battle at the temple, along with the anchor draining your life force.”

   He looked down. Even through his leather glove, Owein saw the faint green glow. “Ask away.”

    “Do you believe you have been touched by Andraste?”

    Owein didn’t answer right away. Mulling over the question, he sorted through the jumbled memories of what happened after he sent Cassandra from the temple. Thought to how he was raised Andrastian until his life took a hard right when his magic manifested and suddenly, he was the evil the chantry preached about. “I am simply a victim of the wrong place at the wrong time.”

    “Or perhaps the right place, right time,” Cassandra softly countered. “The Maker’s will isn’t always apparent and at times hard to understand just who it benefits.”

   Owein smiled. “Well if it was his will or something else, at least it gave me the gift of meeting you.”

   “I bet you say that too much more gullible maidens,” Cassandra muttered, dismissing his statement. Or would have if his face hadn’t hardened and eyes refocused solely on her. She asked her next question before Owein could press further and complicate the conversation. “Do you believe in the Maker, Owein?”

    There was something about how she said his name that had his stomach knotting. “I believe that this world is shaped by our actions, not some divine being’s. For better or worse, a man’s actions are what defines who he truly is, not which God he prays to or how many hours spent on his knees. So, no. I don’t believe in the Maker or any God for that matter.” His face softened. “I’m sorry if that upsets you. I mean no disrespect to your faith what so ever.”

    “I appreciate your candor, Herald,” Cassandra assured.

   “Please, don’t call me that.” Owein tried to keep the bite out of his voice. He had heard the title enough today to fill a lifetime and, sadly, he was sure he would hear it far more in the days to come.

   Cassandra bowed her head. “Good night, Owein.”

   Smiling Owein echoed the gestured. “Good night, Cassandra.”

   With a parting smile, Cassandra made her way back to the front gates.

   Owein waited until she was behind them before he took off towards the woods.


	3. Templar Vs Mages

    In the following days of the formation of the Inquisition, Cassandra didn’t see much of Owein. He did make a stop or two when she was taking out her frustrations out on the town’s training dummies, distracting her with questions. She realized that he did it to get to know her, but also to help ease the tension without blistering her hands. It also didn’t escape her notice that Owein never let her turn the conversation on him. The man had secrets. She wasn’t oblivious to them but still respected that it would take time for Owein to open up to her. After all, Owein was literally thrown into this situation.

   Noting Cullen making his way towards the table he had set up near the training yard, Cassandra sat across from him. “Good morning, Cullen.” She greeted trying to make sense of all the parchment the Commander was sifting through.

   “Moring, Cass,” Cullen replied never taking his eyes off the map in his hand.

   Her brows knitted together. “Everything okay?”

   A small laugh escaped him. “You mean beside reports that the Templar/Mage conflict has intensified since the explosions? The demons falling out of the numerous rifts reported through all the Hinterlands, if not further.” He stopped himself and offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry. If anyone knows the shit storm happening outside of Haven, it’s you.”

   “What’s troubling you today?” Cassandra pressed on wishing she could do something to ease the dark circles beneath his golden eyes. “I saw you taking to the Herald after morning meal. Did he upset you?”

   “No,” Cullen assured looking up from the map at hand. “I told you before, why I might have some reservations of him being a mage, I will do whatever I can to support him as he vowed to work with the Inquisition to close the Breach.”

   Cassandra knew Cullen was trying to work through his personal demons, mistakes from Kirkwall, and prejudices against mages each and every day. On top of all that, he was suffering from cutting the chains that bound him to the Templar order and the chantry by stopping his Lyrium intake. An especially hard chose given his length of service to the order. When he informed her of his plans upon his recruitment into the Inquisition, Cassandra vowed to support him in any way possible.

   “The Herald and I were simply getting to know one another. I think he approached me, extending the olive branch of sorts, to show the others, a mage and former Templar can be civil with one another. Possibly friends given time and effort.”

   “There are still rumblings about a mage being the Herald of Andraste.” Cassandra heard the whispers, saw the heated looks whenever she did manage to pin down Owein. “Did you learn anything interesting?”

   “Sorry to disappoint, but no.” Cullen knew the Ambassador and Spymaster were working tirelessly to solve the mystery of Owen Trevelyan. He preferred Cassandra’s more direct approach. “He ended up asking most of the questions. He wanted to know about Kirkwall and the Templars there. About my life in Ferelden and how I came to leave the order of the Inquisition.”

   Cassandra arched a brow in surprise. “And you answered all these questions?”

   “Mostly. I didn’t want to give him a reason to mistrust me or ignore my council,” Cullen explained.

   “Building bridges.”

   “Something like that.”

   “What’s with the map of Haven?” Cassandra wondered promptly changing the subject. There was no reason for Cassandra to believe whatever Owein was guarding about himself would cause anyone here harm.

    Cullen held the parchment down, pointing out the marks he made. “Our hunting parties have reported a wolf, maybe even a pack, wandering through the woods. It’s quite alarming since all we’ve seen to date are druffalo and goats.”

    Cassandra studied the map. “Perhaps our growing numbers along with the smell of constant cooking have drawn them in.”

   “Perhaps.”

   “Are you mounting a group to search?”

   “It would help me sleep easier if I know we’ve eradicated a threat so close to town.”

   “You don’t sleep.”

   Cassandra laughed as Cassandra was truly the only person who knew him best and what he was going through. “Touché.”

   “Why don’t you head the search part? Perhaps getting away might…” Cassandra trailed off feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand tall.

   She was uncertain what was drawing her back towards the Chantry. Or why. Still, Cassandra raced to the left side of the building, an unsettling fear mounting inside her with each step. Something was happening. Skidding to a stop in the snow, Cassandra took a moment to take in the situation.

   Owein hands bound behind his back laid on his side curled in on himself trying to protect himself from the kicks being delivered by his three attackers.

   Moving with unholy speed, Cassandra moved forward, her closed first connecting hard with the closest man’s jaw and sending him sprawling face first into the snow. The other two halted their attacks, eyes burning hot with rage lifting to her. Though faint, Cassandra could feel the races of Lyrium lingering in their veins.

    Templars. Well, former ones.

   Cassandra recognized the men. They’d followed Cullen’s lead, leaving the order and weaning themselves off Lyrium. Sworn themselves to the Divine and Inquisition.

   “Stand down!” Cassandra commanded stepping over the man she attacked. “Now!”

   “Stay out of this, Seeker!” One of the two left standing warned as he reared back to kick the bound mage.

    Owein opened his eyes and through the blood saw Cassandra slid skillfully across the snow, blocking the attacker’s blow before knocking him off balance. She didn’t give him a chance to recover, moving faster than lightning and hitting hard as thunder. He knew she was a skilled warrior. Seen her spare and train. Yet, Owein watched in amazement as the Seeker expertly took on two men twice her size in hand to hand combat without taking as much as a grazing blow.

   Fighting to stay conscious, Owein struggled against the blighted rope eating into his skin, trying to free himself. Desperate to protect Cassandra. It was a bone-gnawing need.

   In the end, he didn’t make much progress before the scuffle was over and Cassandra stood victorious with three grown men bleeding and moaning at her feet. He nearly smiled. _What a force of nature._

“What in Andraste’s name-?” Cullen rounded the corner and froze. Anger surged, setting his blood on fire. “Owein.”

   The mage shamefully flinched the moment Cullen knelt beside him, forcing himself to relax the moment he realized the Commander was trying to release his hand. “Thanks.”

   “No, don’t move.” Cassandra dropped to her knees, cradling his head in one hand and tenderly touching his shoulder to keep him place with the other. Blood matted his long hair, caked his battered face, and strained the front of his robes. “You need a healer.”

   Owein spat straining the white snow crimson. “So do they. Nice moves, my lady.”

   For a moment concern was replaced with furry as she glanced back. “They can wait. Cullen, go get a healer and Leliana to collect the men.”

   “No,” Owein weakly argued. “Help me up.”

   “I’m not sure that is wise,” Cullen countered. “IF you’ve broken a rib, you may cause internal bleeding if you move.”

   Owein wrapped his hand around Cassandra’s wrist, stroking his thumb along her hammering pulse. “Cassandra, please. Get me up and let them be.”

   Her brows furrowed. “Owein, they would’ve killed you.”

   “They needed someone to blame,” Owein whispered working through the pain and his body desperate plea to sleep.

   Paying no mind to the blood, Cassandra shifted her hand to caress her cheek. Seeing him like this, broken and bruised, hurting in more way than one, tore at her heart. She wanted to pull him against her and absorb all his pain and the guilt that didn’t belong to him. “That shouldn’t be you. You had nothing to do with the explosion.” And Cassandra found she would fight to the death to prove that.

   Closing his eyes, Owein savored her touch. “As long as I know you believe that, I can handle the world’s hatred towards me.”

   Cullen watched the pair with great interest. “There is an abandoned cabin right behind the chantry.” He understood Owein’s want to let this go. He didn’t want to deepen the divide between mages and Templars. To force the people of Haven to take sides. Owein didn’t want to bring the bloody conflict here and destroy the Inquisition before it even got off the ground. “Let’s get him there and I’ll fetch Solas and deal with these men.”

   “They should be thrown out of Haven,” Cassandra growled. “Or at least thrown into a cell.”

   “Just get me to the cabin,” Owein Pleaded.

   Caving, Cassandra worked with Cullen to get the Herald to his feet. Owein’s height made it a tad difficult to support him as they stumbled together towards the cabin. “Don’t pass out.”

   Owein felt his limbs growing heavy. “Trying not to.”

   Thankfully the bed was not far from the door. Cullen winced himself as they unceremoniously dropped the Herald onto it. “You need to sit up.”

   Owein huffed. “That’s like asking me to move a mountain.”

   “I got him. Can you find me a cloth and a bowl of water?” Slipping an arm around his waist, Cassandra eased Owein onto his side. She tried to ignore the heat curling in his stomach when his head fell onto her shoulder.  “I know it hurts.” Under the scent of blood and dirt, her senses were flooded with an earthy smell with a hint of cedar that had been haunting her dreams since their meeting at the Temple. “But you need to push yourself up and I can do it from there.”

   A charming smile appeared on his battered face. “I’ve always liked a strong woman.”

   Cassandra propped Owein against the wall and lifted his legs onto the bed. “How in Thedas did you git in a bed at the circle?”

   “Very poorly.”

   Sitting on the edge of the bed, Cassandra carefully moved his blood mattered hair from his face. One eye was already swollen shut and the other one slowly following. There was a long gash along his left bow and cheek that was oozing blood. His lips were swollen and split. She tore at the sheets to use as a makeshift bandage and pressed it to his brow. His grunt of pain made her sick to her stomach. “Sorry.”

   “I was going to say I’ve had worse, but that would be a lie.” Owein cracked open the one eye he could. “And I don’t want to lie to you.”

   His declaration caught her by surprise but didn’t have time to dwell on it as Cullen returned with the items she requested. “Solas is on his way,” Cullen assured. “I’m going to go back.”

   “Cullen,” Owein’s voice stopped the Commander at the door. “Leave it be, I beg you.”

   Cullen’s face hardened. “They should be held accountable for their actions. They attacked you with malice intentions. Herald or not, that shouldn’t go unpunished.”

   Owein sighed. “We leave for the Hinterlands in a day.”

   “More like a couple,” Cassandra corrected. “Until you’ve recovered.”

   “We leave tomorrow,” Owein argued. “Do what you must while we are away.”

   “As you wish,” Cullen assured before he left.

   Cassandra made a noise of disagreement.

   “It’s for the best,” Owein stated. “There is already too much tension here. If word got out…”

   “What happens to you matters, Owein.” Greatly to her, it would seem.

   “You told me you would tell me the tale of how you became the hand of the Divine.”

   Disarmed by the statement, Cassandra lost traction in her argument. “And you wish to hear it now?”

   He smiled. “It would distract me from the pain.”

   Cassandra indulged him with the tale while cleaning his face the best she could. Not even becoming annoyed like she usually did when he asked if she really took on a horde of dragons. Long ago, the story spun out of her control as the tale of the Hero of Orlais spread. Answering his questions helped distract her from the anger raging inside her at the discoloration under the blood.

   Solas arrived with more water, a satchel of healing potions, and a fresh tunic.

   In the end, Owein squired three broken ribs, a shattered cheekbone, and fractured fingers from his intentional attempt to block his face from the attacks. Thanks to the potions and Solas’s healing magic, the blood staining his robes and hair was all that remained.

   “Still try to take an easy,” Solas advised gathered up his supplies. “Even healed, you will be sore.”

   Breathing easier now, Owein rested his head against the wall. “Noted.”

   “I stopped by your tent for a tunic.” Solas paced it on the Herald’s lap. “I believe it will take more than a simple wash bowl to clean the blood from your hair.”

   Owein’s gaze shifting to the pacing Seeker. “Do you know how to cut hair, my lady?”

   The questions stopped Cassandra in her tracks. “You want me to cut your hair?”

   “Easier than trying to wash it.” Owein shrugged. “Plus, I’m in the mood for a change.”

   She fisted her hands on her hips. “You just got beat by three men, broken numerous bones, and you wish for a haircut?”

   “No need to dwell on the first part of that sentence. It’s done.” Owein looked to Solas before he could join the argument. “It’s done and over with. Thank you, Solas.”

   Taking that as his cue to leave, Solas started for the door. “Fetch me if you need another round of healing.”

   Alone once more, Owein smiled at Cassandra. “About that haircut.”

   Rolling her eyes, Cassandra pulled at her gloved. “Let me track down a pair of clippers.”

   “Wait.” Owein’s hand shot out to catch her gently by the arm. His brow furrowed. “Why didn’t tell me you were hurt?”

   “What? Oh?” Cassandra flexed her torn and bloodied knuckles. His fingers, warm and tender, moved to her wrist. There was no stopping her heart from jumping into her throat. “A few bruised knuckles paled in comparison to a broken face.”

   “To you, maybe.” There was that instinct to protect her. To make sure, that even before himself, she was safe. He took her hand between his, tenderly tugging until she sat on the edge of the bed. “May I?”

   Swallowing the swell of emotions, Cassandra lowered her guard to allow him to heal her. “I guess it will be hard to give you a proper haircut with a busted hand.”

   “And I like my ears where they are.”

   “Haven’t lobbed any off yet,” Cassandra assured.

   He looked up at her through his long lashes. “I trust you with my life.”

   At a loss of words, a habit it seemed around him, Cassandra gently tugged her hand free. “Let me go find those clippers.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

    “Cassandra.” Josephine stopped the Seeker right outside her office. “I know you’re about to set out, but I wanted to steal a moment if I can.”

   Sensing the Ambassador’s discomfort, Cassandra followed her into the office. “Is everything okay?”

   “I-yes-perhaps.” Josephine sat heavily in her chair and began to play with one of the many pieces of parchment on her desk. “I received a correspondence this morning.”

   “Oh.”

   “From the Free Marches.”

   Cassandra kept her expression neutral. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t interested in what was in the letter. Even with the extended time together when she tended his wounds and cut his hair, Cassandra didn’t know more about Owein than he was a compassionate man whose preferred magic was fire and despite knowing nothing more, she cared for him.

   “I wrote to the Trevelyan’s of Ostwick inquiring about Owein. After searching, I found no record of an Owein Trevelyan.”

   “And?” Cassandra asked rather calmly.

    “They have four children,” Josephine replied wondering why the Seeker wasn’t more disturbed by the news.  “There was a fifth, a boy named Maxwell, that was sent to circle at the age of six.”

   The fact Owein is lying about his name bothers you?”

   The Ambassador sighed. “This tells me that he’s not being truthful. It makes me wonder what else he’s trying to hide. And why.”

   “We all have our secrets.”

   “This doesn’t worry you?”

    “It’s intriguing. But, worry me? No, it doesn’t.” Cassandra pushed to her feet. “Right now, he is the only means of closing the Breach. And even more important, he wants to stay and help. For the love of the Maker, he was attacked by three Inquisition members and his worry wasn’t about himself. But about keeping the fragile peace that has settled over Haven since the explosion. His actions matter more than a name.”

   “Just…” Josephine carefully folded the letter and tucked it away in her desk. For now. “Be careful, Cassandra.”

   “Your worry is noted, Josie.” Cassandra gave the Antivan woman a reassuring smile. “Keep digging if it helps east it. I hope you trust my judgment.”

   “Of course, I do.”

   “I’ll see you when we return.”

   “Safe travels.”

    Stopping by her quarters for her pack and shield, Cassandra met Owein, Solas, and Varric at the front gate. With no horses to spare it would take at least most of the day to get to the forward camp in the Hinterlands. Eyeing Owein, she wished that she’d been able to convince him to take another day or two to heal, but the man was a stubborn one. Even more so than her. “Ready?”

   “Lead the way,” Owein answered quickly falling into step behind her.

   “Got to say, Greenie. I like the haircut,” Varric state.

   Owein ruffled his hair, his head feeling much lighter with the short trim he managed to comb over to one side. “Wait, Greenie?”

   “You know because of the hand,” The Storyteller explained.

   Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Varric prefers nicknames to real names.”

   Owein scoffed. “And green is the best you could come up with?”

   “I was thinking Firefly or maybe twinkles, but greenie works.”

   “It’s horrible,” Owein argued.

   Varric laughed in agreeance. “I admit it’s not my best one. I guess I’ll have to work on it.”

   “Please do.”

  

  

  

Fan art done by the great Pookyhuntress 

   


	4. Counterattack

    Owein was trying to stay optimistic about the whole Inquisition and their cause. But the Hinterlands was making it quite difficult. Everywhere they went and everyone he talked to there was utter despair, destruction, and pain. All a result of the battling Mages and Templars that seemed to be laying waste to the land. The rifts only made matters rose. Not five minutes from the base camp, they ran into their first one.

   Closing it zapped Owein of all of his strength that he collapsed the moment the anchor released. It surprised him along with Cassandra’s concern as she knelt down beside him still winded from her battle with the demons the rift threw at them. Owein did his best to assure her that it was nothing. In truth, his body and mind were still fairly weak from his beating the day before. And Owein didn’t have a chance to recover in his costmary way since Cassandra insisted she looked after him until it was time to retire for the evening. He’d been so exhausted he fell asleep in the abandoned cabin.

   Now, three days into their endeavor, Owein was rapidly growing weary of running all over the fucking place for every single person they came in contact with. Fetch stolen supplies. Hunt meat and fur. Forage for herbs. On and on it went. Even Mother Gisele begged for their help.

   Exhausted after nearly a full day of constant healing, Owein stripped down to his leathers and woolen tunic the moment they returned to camp. He resisted the urge to collapse onto his bedroll and drop off into oblivion. He wouldn’t fully recover is mana that way. Potions wouldn’t either. He needed to slip away and find a nice secluded spot to help him regain his strength.

   Looking up from the sword she was sharpening, Cassandra watched Owein lay his staff next to his bedroll along with the boot knife he carried. “There is some rabbit stew. You need to eat as you look like you’re about to fall over if I breathe too hard.”

   “It was a hard day,” Owein muttered bending to sniff the bot on the fire. “Smells good.”

   “I’ve spent my fair share of time traveling,” Cassandra explained. “I know how to make something hearty with very little. Varric set snares out before we ventured back to the Crossroads.”

   After making himself a bow, Owein sat on the log next to the Seeker. “You can fight like a dragon, cook, and are an adept healer.” He ate his first spoonful and his empty stomach grumbled happily. “You’re delightful, you know that?”

   “I object.” Cassandra’s hands faltered and nearly dropped her blade as she once again was caught off guard by his compliment. He seemed to have plenty for her and she wasn’t sure what to do about that. “There is nothing delightful about me.”

   He shot her a smile. “I beg to differ.”

   She let out a disgruntled noise.

   A sound Owein was quickly becoming fond of. With the woman really, if he was being honest with himself. “What do you think of Mother Gisele’s plea for us to go to the Grand Clerics?”

   “I’m not sure.” Cassandra had been mulling over the mother’s words since yesterday. Going to Val Royeaux, knowing the Chantry harbored a great deal of distrust and animosity towards the Inquisition. Well, Owein specifically, left her unsettled. Going would put Owein in danger and Cassandra found herself wanting to protect him at all cost. And it wasn’t out of obligation or sense of duty because he had the key to sealing the Breach. She thought with time she would understand the connect towards Owein, but with each passing day, it grew along with her confusion.

   “I’m sure Rodrick would be delighted to ship me there,” Owein muttered between bites of stew. “I only hope they will let me talk before they lob my head off.”

   The image made Cassandra shudder. “That is why we must do what we can here before returning to Haven.”

   “I haven’t been more than an errand boy.”

   Cassandra set her sword aside. “I beg to differ.”

   Owein raised a brow.

   “Look at you,” Cassandra insisted. “You wore yourself to the bone helping Mother Gisele and the others heal the sick and wounded. You didn’t even hesitate. Mage, Templar, citizen, you poured every ounce of yourself into helping them.”

   Owein stabbed his spoon into the stew. “Could save all of them.”

   Placing a gentle hand on his knee, she gave it a squeeze. “You have them some comfort before they went to the Maker.”

   Reaching down, Owein took her hand, soaking up her comfort. “It’s only going to get worse, isn’t it?”

   “I won’t lie to you and try to convince you that the Hinterlands is the worst of it.” Cassandra wanted to chase the shadows from Owein copper eyes. “But the Mage/Templar conflict spreads far and wide. There will be more rifts, more carnage, and unnecessary death. It’s all the more reason the Inquisition needs to rise above the doubts and whispers of hearsay. We need to help where we can. We must be the example others can follow.”

   His left hand prickled. “I’m sure that would be easier if a mage hadn’t fallen out of the Fade.”

   “Owein-.”

   He sat his nearly empty bowl on the log and stood. “I need to walk. Clear my head.”

   “I’ll join you if you like.”

   Any time he could spend with Cassandra, Owein would enjoy. He never wanted to turn her away and wouldn’t even now if his bones weren’t aching in a way he could no longer ignore. “Rain check.” He tried to reassure her with a smile. “I won’t go far and promise not to start any trouble.”

   Cassandra wanted to press but picked up her sword and whetstone once more. “Please don’t. You’re still recovering.”

   “As long as they don’t sneak up and smite me, I’m sure I can hold my own.”

   “Is that how they got the jump on you?” Cassandra had wondered, but Owein’s desire to let the matter drop stopped her from asking.

   “Sadly, yes.” Owein stopped her before she could inquire further. “I’m on high alert now. So, don’t fret, my lady.”

   “Too late for that.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

   “What’s the matter, Greenie?” Varric asked seeing Owein’s furrowed brow. He stroked his mounts fur, grateful that Master Dennet donated horses for the ride back even if they’d only marked out where the watch towers would be. After a week of trucking around the Hinterlands, Varric was looking forward to an easy ride back.

   Owein’s expression turned into a scowl. “You really need to come up with something better.”

   Varric laughed. “Twinkle?”

   “Maker help me,” Owein muttered mostly to himself.

   Solas finished attaching his pack to his horse’s saddle. “I won’t hope for too much better, Herald.”

   Owein whipped his gaze to his fellow mage. “And don’t call me that!”

   Varric tried to defuse the situation. “How about Firefly then?”

   “How about my name?” Owein angrily demanded. For the past seven days, it was ‘your worship’ or ‘Herald’ or even ‘the chosen one’.

   “Owein,” Cassandra calmly spoke placing the reins of his horse in the man’s hand. The tension drained and was replaced with apprehension. “Mount up. If we leave now, we will be back at Haven before evening meal.”

   “Yeah, umm.” Owein rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know how.”

   “And here I pegged you to have a string of broken heart pining after you,” Varric teased atop his horse.

   A grown caught in Owein’s throat. “I was referring to the horse, Varric. I’m pretty well versed in the matters you’re referring to.”

   “You’ve never ridden a horse?” Solas softly asked.

   “When I was a child,” Owein snapped hating feeling inadequate. “Horseback riding wasn’t something they taught a Circle Mage. Figured it would lead to more escapes. And how does a dwarf know how to ride?”

   Varric simply grinned. “I have many talents, my friend.”

   “I’ll just walk,” Owein argued. “Perhaps, I’ll inquire about lessons once back at Haven.”

   Cassandra pushed his hand away when he tried to hand her back the reins. “No need to wait. I’ll give you your first lesson right now.”

   “And fall flat on my face. No thank you.”

   “C’mon Greenie-.”

   “Varric!” Cassandra sharply quipped at the dwarf. “Perhaps, you and Solas should ride ahead.”

   Solas gently pushed his horse forward. “I believe you’re right, Seeker.”

   “You’ll find she usually is,” Varric muttered following behind the elf.

   Owein still fought. “Cassandra.”

   “Will you just trust me?” Cassandra softly pleaded.

   His copper gaze shot to hers. “I do trust you,”

   Face flushed from the heat of his words, Cassandra position Owein at the side of his horse. “Getting on can be tricky.”

   “Is staying on easier?”

   “Not by much.”

   “Great.”

   Taking his hand, Cassandra didn’t miss the slight tremor in it as she lifted and placed his palm on the horn of the saddle. “you’re tall so that will work in your favor.”

   “Higher to fall,” Owein dryly added.

   Cassandra bit back a sigh. “Focus.”

   He was but found it easy to become distracted by her closeness. “Sorry.”

   “Now, put your left foot in the stirrup,” Cassandra instructed. “Then use the horn or pommel to pull yourself up. As you do, swing your right leg over the saddle.”

   Owein gave the saddle a quick test pull. While it remained in place, the horse began to squirm.

   “He’s getting restless,” Cassandra assured him. “Pull yourself up and be quick about it. Less chance of the horse moving out from underneath you.”

   Gritting his teeth, Owein tried to do just that, only to lose his footing inside the stirrup and would’ve hit the ground if Cassandra hadn’t been there to steady him. The fingers on his hip, digging into his side, stirred his blood. _For the love of the Maker!_ Owein tried to harness in his body’s reaction before he could embarrass himself further. “I’m sure this is doing nothing for my manly demeanor.”

   She flashed him a smile. “I promise not to tell a soul. Now.” Releasing him, Cassandra stood behind him. “Try again and be quicker.”

   Thankfully, it only took two more tries and only hitting the ground once, before Owein was perched atop the horse. Owein gripped the reins for dear life. “Now what?” He watched Cassandra effortlessly saddle up. “Show off.”

   “Years of experience,” Cassandra gently corrected. “Before you know it, you’ll be an expert horseman.”

   “Thinking you’re expecting a miracle.”

   “I’m sure the Maker another one up his sleeve. Follow what I do,” She instructed. “Use your thighs to hug the saddle, it will help you remain upright. We’ll start slow.”

   Owein blew a stray lock of hair off his brow. “I always prefer to start slow in other circumstance.”

   Cassandra couldn’t hold back the laughter. “I agree. But hard and fast has its moments.”

   “Does it now?”

   Now, she was fighting a blush. “hold on tight and move with your horse.”

   “Is that another euphemism?”

   “Shut before I push you off the damn horse.”

   Owein smiled. “You’re blushing.”

   “Am not.” Damn it! She was.

   “It’s adorable.”

   “Ugh.”

   “Delightful and adorable.”

   “Say that in front of the dwarf and I will feed you to the nearest dragon.”

   Owein pointed over his shoulder. “I believe I heard a few town’s people saying something about a high dragon not being far from here.”

   “Owein.”

   “Yes?”

   “Shut up and ride.”

   “Yes’m.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

   Sleep, like most nights since the explosion, didn’t come for Cassandra. Accepting it was going to be another restless night, she dressed for the cold and set out for a walk. The moment she stepped outside, Cassandra found her gaze drifting to the Breach. It’s been two weeks since Owein stabilized the tare in the sky and there still wasn’t any signs they would be able to fully close it anytime soon. They were to set off for Val Royeaux in the upcoming days on Mother Gisele’s urging plea to appeal to the Grand Clerics. Cassandra had her reservations about the plan. Now that the Inquisition was finding their footing on solid ground, the Chantry intensified their attacks on denouncing their order and the famed ‘Herald of Andraste’.

   Rubbing her neck, Cassandra passed through the gate of Haven. Even within the town residence, Cassandra and the advisors fought people’s missing giving’s, hatred, and a large amount of negative talk in regards to Owein’s role. Many still blamed him for the explosion and the death of the Divine. Templars seemed to hate Owein on the principal he was a mage, though, thanks to Cullen, many were slowly changing their view. Especially since the Commander came down hard on the few men that attacked the Herald. He would've banished them from Haven if Owein hadn’t tried to let the matter go.

   Cassandra began her normal route, walking the path circling the frozen lake. She liked this time even if she rather be sleeping. Everything was still, almost serene if one could ignore the swirling green tint in the sky. It also gave her time to think and reflect on her current situation along with the memories of her past. She tried not to linger on the latter. Her mind needed to remain clear, focused on the daunting task ahead of them. Because if she let herself, the grief would overwhelm her to the point she would break.

   Snow crunching under boots brought Cassandra out her stupor. Instincts had her reach for the sword she failed to arm herself with before leaving her cabin. Cursing herself, she turned, finding three men approaching. By their posture, it was clear this wasn’t going to be a friendly meeting. “Who goes there?”

   “Don’t you know it’s quite dangerous to be wandering out here in the middle of the night by yourself?” One of the men spoke, face cast in shadows, a hint of a smile in his voice. “Bunch of wild animals about. It’s not safe.”

   A second one clucked his tongue. “Where is your mage, Seeker? By the way you defended the bastard, I’m surprised you’re not warming up his bed.”

   _Templars._ Cassandra could feel the traces of Lyrium in their veins and it was full to the brim. These had to be the men she’d beat to a bloody pulp for ganging up on Owein. Seemed they fell off the bandwagon and fully indulged themselves again in Lyrium.

   _Well, shit._

“Not here to protect you, it seems.” The third spoke closing in on the woman. “No one is, in fact. You should’ve stayed out of it, Seeker.”

   Cassandra scoffed. “The Inquisition has no use for three men that have to corner a woman in the dead of night to make it a fair fight.”

   The first one surged forward, narrowly missing Cassandra, forcing him to concentrate on his footing in the snow so not to fall flat on his face. “You have a mouth on you. I can tell a man has never shown you how to properly use it.”

   The third assailant shifted, cutting off Cassandra’s only escape. “Properly wouldn’t even know what to do with a man. Doubt she’s been even fucked. Too uptight.”

   “Let’s change that, shall we?”

   Seeing how her only way out of this was to fight, Cassandra centered herself, pushing the chaos from her mind and focusing on the men. In a single solitary moment, she assessed the situation, sized up her opponents in the way they carried themselves to the rhythm of their breathing. All to help her get the upper hand in a very uneven battle. To possibly anticipate their attacks. “Boys, you wouldn’t even know what to do with a woman like me. I’m a real one. Nothing like those you paid to scratch your itch at the rose since it’s clear you’re incapable of landing a woman with your charm.”

   Her barb pushed the scuffle into motion. Outnumbered and unarmed, Cassandra had no disillusion about winning. Her goal was simply to find a weakness in their defense and slip through it in order to race back to Haven. Sliding across the snow, Cassandra dodged the first blow, popping up behind the leader of the group to deflect his attack and sending him pitching forward. She failed to track the third and paid the price. His fist slammed into the side of her face with enough force to make her teeth rattle. Thankfully, she was quick to regain her bearings as both men went to exploit her weakness and lunged at her.

   It wasn’t an easy fight. Cassandra could say she had adequate express with fist fights. She relied on her swiftness and sheer brute force in place of being armored. Each time she evaded their grasp or dodged their blows, the men’s frustrations mounted, making them more volatile and desperate. Unpredictable.

   Cassandra saw stars and fell to her knees the moment one of them basked her in the back of the head with the hilt of a sword. Darkness threatened to take over. Another blow, with a gauntlet-clad fist this time, sent her sprawling into the snow. She tried to call on her abilities, to freeze these crazed Templars in their tracks, but the nasty kick to her ribs broke her concentration before she could latch onto the Lyrium inside them.

   Rolling, Cassandra struggled to scramble to her feet. When an arm twisted around her neck, hauling her to her knees, she knew she lost her chance.

   “Hold her!” The leader demanded, spitting the blood from his mouth. Driving his blade into the frozen earth, he shifted. “I have a very specific lesson I want to teach the bitch.”

   In the darkness of the brush, Cassandra swore she saw a flash of glowing eyes before the man’s crotch filled her view.

   A low growl drifted with the heavy wind.

   She wasn’t about to go down without a fight. Cassandra swung her head forward, intent on smashing the bastard’s balls when there was a blur of motion before the leader crashed to the ground.

   “It’s a fucking wolf!” One of the others shouted, twisted the Seeker up and away from the beast.

   Cassandra exploited their moment of distraction. Ramming the heel of her palm into her captor’s nose, she slipped free after hearing a satisfying pop. The dog or wolf or whatever the beast was pounced on the newly injured man giving Cassandra a chance to rush back to the main gates.

   A hand caught her by the ankle sending her down, head connecting hard with the earth. Groan, Cassandra tasted blood.

   The wolf howled.

   Cassandra tracked the beast. Maker, it was huge, nearly the size of a horse. When it moved towards her, she found herself strangely calm. Deep down, somehow, she knew it meant her no harm. It looked at her, glowing copper eyes laced with a mixture of concern and unfathomed furry meant for her attackers, checking on her condition before it pounced again.  Vision graying, Cassandra pushed to her feet, a task much harder than it should’ve been. The next time her foot slipped was due to her shaky limbs, but instead of crashing painfully back down to the frozen earth, she found a pair of arms catching her.

   “Easy there, Cassandra.”

   “Owein?” Confused, Cassandra looked up and sure enough there he was, hair disheveled, face brushed and bloody.  His eyes, Maker, his eyes. The revelation left her reeling. “You’re a shapeshifter? How? The circle-.”

   Owein held her close as she began to drift. “Stay with me, my lady.” Carefully, he swept the warrior into his arms leaving the three injured men unconscious in the freezing night.

   “You’re hurt.”

   His heart hammered pleasantly in his chest the moment the tips of her cold fingers brushed along his stubbly jaw. As much as he didn’t want to, he pushed it aside for now. “I say you’re far worse than I am.”

   “I’ve had worse,” Cassandra softly wheezed. “I’ve faced a horde of dragons, remember.”

   The corner of his mouth lifted. “I thought it was just one.”

   Smiling, her head drifted to his shoulder.

   Owein peeled off from the main path right before the main gate towards his tent knowing Cassandra wouldn’t want anyone besides the Commander to see her in such a state. Ducking inside, he carefully laid her on his pallet of furs. Owein snapped his finger, calling on his magic to form a sphere of flames and transfixed it in the air to warm the Seeker. “Don’t move,” He commanded dragging fur over her trembling frame. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to fetch Cullen.”

   “There is no need,” Cassandra tried to argue.

   Owein bared his teeth. “Those bastards will not get away with this, Cassandra. They’re lucky I didn’t kill them.” In fact, he still had half a mind to go back and finish the job. “They attacked you because of me. By the light, they were going…” Throat tight, Owein couldn’t finish the thought.

   She reached out, squeezing his hand. “I’m okay. You stopped them.”

   “I’ll be right back.” Because he felt compelled to, he brushed his lips across her torn knuckles. “Try to stay awake.”

   “No promises.”

   Owein rushed to the front gate, calling for the man on watch. “Go and wake the Commander.” He wouldn’t go and leave Cassandra alone any longer than he had too. “I know it’s the middle of the night. Just wake him and tell him to come to my tent as quickly as possible.”

   “Yes, your Worship.”

   With no energy to correct him, Owein let the young guard go before running back to his tent. His heart sank. Cassandra was paler than when he left her. Cursing, he dropped to his knees and began to use his magic to full assess her injuries.

   “Trevelyan, it’s too fucking cold out here. Why in the blight did you...” Cullen’s gruffy voice trailed off the moment he entered the tent. “Maker’s breath, what happened?”

   “You should ask your Templar friends I left bleeding out in the fucking snow,” Owein growled. “They jumped her on the far side of the lake.”

   Cullen shuffled towards the injured woman. “How bad?”

   “Contusions, concussion, a few broken bones, and lacerations.” Anger deepened the mage’s voice. “It’s what they tried to do to her. If I hadn’t…”

   The Commander’s blood ran cold. “Did they?”

   “No,” Owein snapped. “But it wasn’t for a lack of trying. Get those men out of Haven, Commander.” His desire to broker peace gave way to his anger over the fact they retaliate on Cassandra. “If I see them again, I’ll kill them.”

   Cullen didn’t doubt it. He was inclined to leave the men to the elements himself. “You take care of her and I’ll take care of them.”

   Owein laid a hand softly against her cold cheek as the Commander left. The moment his healing magic passed through her, her head lulled in his direction, eyes open and clouded with pain. “Don’t fight it,” Owein whispered struggling to push past the barrier that Seeker’s possessed to protect them from magic and corruption. He stroked a thumb along her jaw feeling her slowly relax under his touch. “That’s it. I got you, Cassandra.”

   “I’ve never been one to need a white knight before.”

   A soft laugh escaped him. “How about a wolf companion?”

   “I can accept that.” A small smile pulled at her chapped lips. “Thank you, Owein.”

   “Don’t thank me,” Owein pleaded. “I’m the reason you’re in this condition.”

   She caught him by the wrist. “You’re a good man.”

   “Still doesn’t make up for me being a mage.”

   “It doesn’t matter what or who you are,” Cassandra softly argued. “I’m glad you’re here.”

   Her words caught him by complete surprise. Was it no wonder he was becoming more enamored by her with each passing day? “Sleep, my lady.”

   “You’ll be here when I wake?”

   Now, he smiled. “I think it’s going to be quite difficult for you to rid yourself of me.”

   “Good.”

   “Rest.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

   Cassandra woke, shivering under the thick layer of fur an hour or two later. Her body ached, but after shifting, she found all the bones she had felt crack, healed. The soreness, no doubt after such a beating, would linger for a few days.

   Soft snoring drew Cassandra’s gaze to the right and smiled. The Herald was propped up against a small table near the front of the tent, awkwardly position, holding his staff with a death grip. He was so tall. Something far more apparent being in a closed space. He seemed to be folded in on himself to remain upright. “Owein.”

    He came away instantly, on guard and a spell already flickering across his fingertips. Seeing Cassandra awake, Owein relaxed. “Morning.”

   “Sun isn’t up yet.”

   “Then you should go back to sleep and find rest while you can,” Owein advised rubbing the crick in his neck. “I’m going to suggest to the advisors that we go to Val Royeaux sooner rather than later. As in the first possible moment we can, grab our gear and head out.”

   Her brow furrowed. “To be out of Haven while the Commander deals with this incident?”

   “Don’t you think it’s best?”

   Cassandra wasn’t one to run nor hide from an issue, but Owein was right. Cullen had a large scale issue to address that would be quicker to resolve without their presence since they seemed to be at the center of it. That didn’t mean she liked it. “Perhaps.”

   “Go back to sleep.”

   “It’s cold.”

   “Ah.” Owein’s heater had burnt out sometime after he drifted off into the fade. He started to conjure another ball of fire only stopping at her protest. “What?”

   “Come?”

   Owein raised a brow.

   “You look utterly uncomfortable and if we are to set out for Val Royeaux today, you need proper rest. Seeing how I’ve commandeered your bed, seems only right for me to share.”

   “Can’t find a reasonable argument to counter that logic.” Setting his staff on the ground near the foot of the bed, Owein slid down next to the Seeker. Instantly, she curled against him, seeking the heat he naturally produced. He instinctively wrapped an arm around her middle praying that his body didn’t betray him leading him to make a full of himself. “Sleep, my lady. I’ll wake you before the sun comes up.”

   The corner of her mouth twitched. “How will you know when that is if you’re sleeping?”

   He flashed her a grin. “It’s a wolf thing?”

   “Do you always awake at dawn?”

   “Not if I can help it. They always had to drag me out of bed at the circle.”

   “Then why are you getting up so early?”

   “Well, I. That is…” Owein cleared his throat doing his best to ignore the way her body shifted on each breath, stirring his blood. This was a bloody bad idea. He spent too much time these last few weeks wondering and dreaming about the Seeker, that sharing a bed with her deemed irresponsible on his part. Yet, Owein couldn’t part himself from her. He was at a loss of words to explain the instant draw to Cassandra. The moment he encountered her in the shadows of the temple, he’d become enamored by her in ways he had with no other woman in his life. “I figured you rather avoid talk by not being seen leaving my tent at such an hour is all.”

   “Worried about your reputation, Herald of Andraste?”

   He softly chuckled. “Rather yours. Look at what being associated with me has gotten you, Cassandra?” Carefully, Owein skimmed his fingers over the healing bruise on her cheek.

   “Don’t waste your time worrying about me.”

   Owein bit back a laugh. It was far too late for that.

   Cassandra pillowed her head on his shoulder, snuggling deeper into his embrace. “Maker, how are you so warm?”

   He rested his chin against her crown. “Perks of being a fire mage.”


	5. Meeting the Grand Clerics

   Owein held the reins of the Seeker’s horse, watching her closely, heart sinking every time she winced when packing her saddle. Maybe going to Val Royeaux wasn’t the best idea if she needed more time to properly heal. She must’ve sensed his gaze burning a hole into the side of her face as she turned to meet his gaze, catching him mid-stare. _Well_ , he mused to himself. It wasn’t like this was the first time his starring hadn’t gone unnoticed.

   “You sure you’re up to traveling?” Owein softly asked.

   “I’m fine,” Cassandra shot back in a harsh whisper.

   Catching something at the end of her voice, Owein reached to take her hands. She yet to put on her gloves giving him the chance to soak up the warmth and texture of her skin. His heart jerked hard in his chest the moment she linked fingers with his. Such a simple touch that had his blood pumping. Owein failed to recall receiving a touch from another that enticed the same reaction. Maker, with each passing day it was becoming increasingly harder to ignore the pull he felt for her.

    “Owein, please.” Closing her eyes, Cassandra fought a sudden onslaught of tears she’d been burying from the moment the Herald caught her injured form in his arms. “I NEED to do this. NEED to go on about my life. My duties. If I stop-.”

   Such a strong, fierce woman. Was it any wonder he found himself completely taken with her?  Giving her one of his charming smiles, he squeezed her hands. “But it’s okay if you do, but I know you’re too stubborn to find any wisdom in my words.”

   Cassandra was surprised with by her own laughter.

   “Know that when you do, I’ll be there in any way you need.”

   “You shouldn’t trouble yourself with such things.”

   He cut her off, his tone a tad crisper than he intended. “It’s not trouble or an inconvenience when you are trying to help someone you care about.” Sensing is words flustered her, Owein relinquished his hold on her hands. “Do you require assistance saddling up?”

   “The day I cannot do so myself.” Gripping the edge of the saddle, Cassandra painfully climbed on top, praying none of it showed on her face. Her pride couldn’t take it at the moment. “Is the day I shall retire my blade.”

   Owein grinned. “Noted.” He, on the other hand, lacked proper horse-riding skills and clumsily made his way atop his stead. Seeing her eyes full of mirth while doing her hardest to keep her features stoic brought him great pleasure. By the Gods, all of them, he felt such a connection with this woman who, in truth, he hardly knew. What he did know, without a shadow of a doubt, was he wanted-no-needed to breach the walls she erected around her heart and claimed it if she allowed. He was still trying to undo all the complicated layers that made up the Seeker to understand exactly where they stood with one another.

   He arched a brow. “I didn’t fall off this time.”

   “A small miracle indeed,” Cassandra quipped basking in the warmth of his smile. How was it with every passing day, she found herself becoming more and more enamored by the mage? These feelings were defiantly the last thing she ever expected to experience, given the circumstance. Owein Trevelyan should be the catalyst of her anger and grief for the explosion and all the lives it claimed. Instead, Cassandra found him a great comfort. A person she was trusting at an alarming rate. If she knew what was best, Cassandra would distance herself from the man. Draw lines in the sand, never to be crossed and cementing a relationship of nothing more than comrades in this turbulent time of war. Always the level headed one and know for her rational choices, Cassandra found herself wanting to feel out this connection with Owein and see where it led them.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

   The voyage to the city was surprisingly uneventful. Owein almost cursed himself for saying such a thought to enter his mind as he settled against a few crates at the bow of the ship. He should know by now nothing was simple when it came to the Inquisition.

   “Can’t sleep?”

   The sound of Cassandra’s voice had the mage looking up, finding her approaching him, bundled tightly in a blanket. He took a moment to note that most of the discoloration was gone from her cheek, no doubt in thanks to either Solas’s healing or a potion. “What gave it away?”

   “You’re worried about will happen once we reach Val Royeaux?”

   She surprised him by choosing to nestle down next to him instead of sitting across from him. Before the delight could seep into his face, Owein reason her choice was purely to stay warm and nothing more. “In a few short hours, we will be walking into the viper’s nest. The fact I’m a mage is going to set enough people on edge. I don’t know what Mother Gisele is hoping for by us meeting the Grand Clerics, but I can already feel the noose around my neck.”

   One of her hand shot out from the blanket, grasping his, dark eyes blazing. “They will have to get through me first.”

   The corner of his mouth twitched. “Good thing you’re a force of nature, _M’eudail.”_

   Her brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

   Panicking, Owein did his best to play it off as a simple term for a friend when in truth he just referred to the Seeker as his darling.

   “What language is that?”

   “A bit of Dalish mixed with an ancient language I picked up in my travels.”

   “Travels.” It occurred to Cassandra that she didn’t really know much about Owein Trevelyan. Well, beyond a few stories here and there. They still hadn’t spoken about his shapeshifting abilities, not that there had been much of a chance.

   Now he gave her a devilishly, wolfish grin. “Come now, you don’t think I picked up my little trick locked up in some tower, do you?”

   “Well, no.” Cassandra found herself linking fingers instead of pulling away. She let the pleasant and warm feeling fill her, cherished it even if it wasn’t the smartest of choices. “But you were sent to the tower.”

   “I was,” He assured not wanting her to think even for a moment he lied to her. “At the tender age of six when I nearly burnt the family manor to ashes after a particularly harsh beating from my father.”

   Owein stopped for a moment, words registering. He hadn’t meant to tell her that or anyone for that matter. He felt her squeeze his hand, silently offering him support and strength to continue. Well, he thought to himself on a long breath, wasn’t this something? What was it about this woman, Owein found himself asking once again, that made him feel so at ease?

   “I went to the tower and was there until I was twelve.”

   Cassandra arched a brow. “One does not simply walk away from the circle. How’d you end up with the Dalish? Did you escape?”

   “In a sense.” Owein found himself studying their joined hands.

   They seemed to fit perfectly.

   “There was an incident between a mage and templar, igniting an all-out brawl. Other mages jumped in, I’m assuming, because they saw it as a golden opportunity to overthrow the order, possibly destroy the circle. I was still there and, like so many others that day was caught in the middle of the chaos. One of them caused an explosion.”

   Cassandra thought to his massively scared arm. She thought it a result of the mark since it was on his left side.

   Heat coiled in his belly the moment she stroked the disfigured skin, her touch warm despite the chilly temperatures. Comforting. When was the last time someone touched him such a way? Even with the woman he laid with, their touch never felt so kind. Loving even? “When the smoke cleared there were many dead on both sides. I must’ve been close as they threw me with the deceased mages. Templars got a proper burial.” Owein swallowed the sour taste rising in the back of his throat. “We were taken far into no man’s land, less chance anyone would stumble upon our dead bodies, therefore uncovering the atrocities that had taken place within the circle.”

   A frown crossed her face. She hated the bite in his voice. Hated that such things were a common occurrence throughout Thedas. Knowing the darkness now, Cassandra felt as a Seeker, she failed on many levels. If they just stopped, looked further into the numerous claims, maybe they could’ve stopped the events in Kirkwall. Quelled the civil war. Prevented the Conclave.

   “A clan passing through the marshes found me hanging onto life by a thread.”

   “Not many Dalish are found in those parts.”

   His lips twitched. “Guess it’s that luck you say I have.”

   She smiled now. “I’m starting to lean toward it being the good kind at this rate.”

   “It got me here with you,” Owein spoke in complete earnestly making the warrior flush. “I'm inclined to think so myself.”

   Maker’s breath that smile. Cassandra found herself dazzled by it and because of that fact, she droved herself to cast her gaze downwards. She never been or let herself be flustered by men before. Prided herself on such a fact. How in the blight did Owein become the exception?

   “They nursed me back to health, gave me a place in the world that rather lock me up high in a tower for being born the way I am. Instead of being sheltered and have my magic repressed, being constantly told I was an abomination, they taught me to hone my skills. Understand what flowed in my veins was a gift and helped me discover it’s true protentional.” Owein smiled a little as he remembered. “They put me through a trial, their version of a harrowing I guess, that’s when I mastered shapeshifting. An ancient spell that came with a knowledge of those that came before. Still, after all these years, I’m trying to make a sense of it. That’s where that language comes in.”

   Explained how Owein wielded his magic with total ease, casting spells at a rate that should drain his mana. Cassandra was still mystified by his power. Shapeshifting alone required great amounts of it. “Is this when you changed your name?”

    Owein arched a brow. “How’d-?”

   “Josephine told me that there was no record of an Owein Trevelyan at the Ostwick circle. There was once a Maxwell, but he died at the age of twelve due to a mishap of his own magic.”

   “Interesting,” Owein whispered as he always wondered if the circle came up with a story to cover his absence. Did his family know? Did they even care that he died? And why didn’t Cassandra bring this up sooner? “How long have you known I wasn’t telling you my real name?”

    “Right before we left for the Hinterlands.”

   “And you didn’t question that?”

   Cassandra shrugged her shoulder. “You had sworn you would stay with the Inquisition. Help close the breach and find those responsible. What did it matter that you weren’t telling us your real name? I wasn’t ignorant to the fact you were holding your secrets close to your chest.” She gave him a small smile. “I hoped you would trust me enough to let me in.”

   Her trust in him was staggering. “The Dalish offered me a new name to go along with my new life. Owein means noble wolf in their language.”

   “A human Dalish.” She tried to put a bit of humor in her voice. This was a lot to take it, but Cassandra was glad that Owein was opening up to her more and more. “When we seek out the Grand Clerics, I would leave that bit to yourself. They are already going to have a hard time with you being a mage as you said.”

   “Noted,” Owein snorted. “Good thing you’ll protect me, right?”

   “I think, after last night, you’ve proven you can take care of yourself.”

   “I doubt showing up as a wolf will help our cause.”

   “True.”

   Silence fell between them as the crisp night air fluttered around them.”

   Cassandra found simply being in his presence comforting. “I’m not sure if I ever thanked you.”

   Owein’s copper eyes filled with remorse. “You shouldn’t since I was the reason they went after you.”

   She clamped her other hand on his arm, forcing him to look at her. “Those men chose their actions. Chose to feed into the misguided hatred towards you. They are the ones responsible for what happened, not you, Owein.”

   Hearing his name, not his title, rolling in her Navarran accent made Owein’s chest tighten. How he longed to hear it, with her breathless and naked beneath him. By the light, he wanted her. The sheer need flooded his system. How much more could he handle before it completely overwhelmed him to the point he no longer could push it aside? “Then thank you.”

   Her gaze narrowed. “Whatever for?”

   “Believing in me. You have no cause to. You should hate me like the others. I know you lost people.”

   “You right, I should.” She held his gaze, tightening her grip on his hand. Once again, Cassandra asked herself why he wasn’t. “But, instead, I find myself grateful to have you in my life and that leaves me puzzled.”

   Owein’s heart caught in his throat. “I’m thankful for the same thing.” Because he ached to, he brought their joined hands to his lips. “Rest, my lady.”

   “You need to do as well,” Cassandra softly pleaded, resting her head upon his broad shoulder. Later, much, much later, she would try to sort out why she felt so comfortable with a hand she’d known for a handful of weeks. Felt content with him in a way she never achieved with anyone else. No Leliana or even Reglan. “No need to stay up worrying yourself.”

   He smiled. “Because I have you to protect me.”

   Cassandra’s eyes began to grow heavy. “Exactly.”

000o0o0o0o0o0o0o

   “Lord Lucius…” Cassandra tried to reach for him, gain his attention in the thick crowd of people. “Please, a moment.”

   “How dare you!” Whirling around, Lucius gripped the sword on his hip, eyes full of disappointment and disgust. “How dare speak to me?”

    Cassandra faltered, even took a step back. “Lord Seeker?”

   Owein hated the slight tremble in the female warrior’s voice. The way her shoulders slumped, head angled downwards. Gritting his teeth, he shifted to stand shoulder to shoulder with her. If it wouldn’t escalate the situation, he would have taken her hand, squeezed it in comfort. In support. To put the steel back into her eyes.

   “You came here to plead with the Grand Clerics.” The Lord Seeker’s gaze flickered to Owein. “Creating a heretic movement, appointing a mage as the so-called ‘Herald of Andraste’?”

   “The Most Holy-.”

   “You have to audacity to speak of her? By the Maker, the moment you allowed him to carry that title, you betrayed her.”

   Cassandra recoiled heart heavy with the weight of his words. He was right, of course. The let a mage have such freedom, such power, was a complete betrayal to her training as a Seeker. Maker, how could she be so foolish?”

   “No it’s you that betrays her,” Owein shot back, voice heated in anger. “While the world was ripping itself apart, you chose to stand by and do nothing. Cassandra knew, understood that being idle would only worsen the situation. She took action like Justinia would’ve done.”

   Her head snapped up, watching rage seep into Owein’s features. He bared his teeth, a wolf at heart, as he defended her feverishly, protecting her by putting himself in between her and Lucius. Never in her life had she ever let herself depend on someone else’s protection, but here she was, allowing this man, this mage, go toe to toe with the Lord Seeker on her behalf. Growling as he spoke. Her wolf. The thought startled Cassandra as much as it delighted her.

   “Owein.” Stronger now, Cassandra placed a hand on his arm, felt it tremble, felt the magic inside him swirl and mount. She waited until copper eyes met hers. “Let the Lord Seeker believe what he wishes.”

   A rumble caught in the back of Owein’s throat in protest.

   Grateful for his belief in her, she squeezed. “Nothing we can say will sway his mind.” Cassandra looked to Lucius now. “Only action will. I-we will show him and those alike that the Inquisition isn’t a mere heretic movement. It’s one of hope.”

   Lord Lucius sneered. “We, the Templars, are Thedas’s salvation. Your Inquisition is nothing. You are less than nothing, Seeker.”

   Owein surged forward only to crumble as his legs grew weak and his body seized painfully under Lucius’s smite. In an instant, he felt the magic inside him cease, leaving him dazed. Empty. Pride kept him from crying out as agony flowed through every inch of him.

   “Stop it!” Cassandra commanded.

   Grinning, Lucius intensified his efforts to snuff out the man’s magic. He would make an example of this mage, to show the others their place. Right as Lucius was to send Owein sprawling, his connection was abruptly severed. He couldn’t stop his cry of pain as he stumbled back as Cassandra took control of the Lyrium inside him, cutting him off from his abilities, therefore, relinquishing his hold on Owein. “Traitor!”

   Grabbing the crossbow off his back, Varric leveled it at the Lord Seeker. “I think it’s best you take your thugs elsewhere.”

   Solas closed ranks, shielding Cassandra as she tended to the Herald. “I’m sure you rather not have all these people see you fall to the heretics.”

   “Owein.” Concern filled her voice, she knelt down next to him and forgetting the world for a moment. When he didn’t respond, Cassandra brushed the sweat-soaked hair from his brow. “Look at me. Are you alright? Do you need-?”

   Reaching up to clamp a hand around her wrist, Owein cut her off by leaning into her touch. There was such warmth, such power in her that he drew from to replenish the strength Lucius took from him.

   Cassandra felt the pull and lowered her guard, allowing him to take what he needed. “What do you need?”

   _You._ Owein caught himself before it escaped his lips. By the gods, he needed this woman more than he needed to breathe. His gaze latched onto hers, finding the same need reflected there. Was this whom the fates spoke of when he first joined the Dalish? A warrior, a woman, whom he was destined for. The one who would strengthen him as well as protect. Owein hadn’t put much merit into the seer’s words as he vowed after being cast aside by his family to never let himself depend on a person for such thing.

   “I’m okay,” Owein finally managed.

   “You’re paler than death,” Cassandra argued.

   He flashed her a smile. “Being smitted is far from a pleasant experience.”

   “Can you stand?” Solas asked once he was sure that Lucius wouldn’t return. “It’s not wise for us to linger.”

   “Solas is right.” Varric shouldered his crossbow. “We should get out of here before things get even more explosive.”

   A small laughed escape Owein. “Not the best choice of word, Varric.”

   Slipping an arm around his waist, Cassandra helped the mage stand. “Let’s find a quiet place to regroup and send a raven back to Haven.”

   Since he knew eyes were upon him, Owein took his own weight, to prove to them he wouldn’t be so easily beaten. Few of the murmured, others still watched him in regard, and a select few parted to make a path, a hint of respect on their faces. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a pint.” Owein took a step or two forward only to jump back when an arrow landed at his feet. “Maybe two.”

   “Or three,” Varric commenting reaching down for the note attached to its shaft.

   An hour later, Owein dropped his weary self into a chair at a tavern outside of town. He rubbed his stubbly cheek. If all the excitement with Lucius wasn’t enough, he found himself filled to the brim with even more innovations some Val Royeaux Grand Enchantress, whomever this Red Jenny was, and even on from the leader of the mage rebellion herself. All the while, he longed for the warmth and solitude of his tent back at Haven where he could shut out the world.

   “Here. Drink this.”

   Owein Found a glass vial being pushed into his hands instead of a mug as he hoped. He opened his tired lids to see Cassandra looking at him in concern. “What’s this?”

   “Something that will help you recover, bring strength back to your body.” Grabbing a chair, Cassandra dragged it to his side. “Drink it or I’ll force it down your throat.”

   Owein grinned. “I see I’m not the only beast around.”

   Flushed, Cassandra uncorked the vial “Please,” She softly added. “Your face is still void of color.”

   To wash away her worry, Owein downed the liquid in one gulp. Instantly, he felt some of the achiness from his bones subside. “Thank you.”

   “I also brought you a print,” Cassandra informed taking the empty vial and replacing it with a wooden mug.

   “Where are the others?”

   “Trying to hunt down those clues the letter spoke of in hope to uncover the mystery of the Red Jenny.”

   Owein took a greedy sip of the mead. “Are you okay?”

   Cassandra’s brow furrowed. “I knew that the Lord Seeker would have some reservations about the Inquisition.” She worked past the emotions clogging her throat. “But for him to be so dismissive. Harsh. To say-.”

   Setting the mug down, Owein’s hand shot out to frame her face. “He was wrong.”

   “Was he thought?” Cassandra found him drawing closer, copper eyes heated in anger, And, maybe, just maybe, perhaps something else. Cassandra ignored the stirring of her blood. “I’ve always been called brash, hard-headed. I see what needs to be done and I do it while others stand in the fire only to complain it’s too hot. But what if-.”

   He cut her off with a sharp tone. “He was wrong, Cassandra.”

   Sighing, she clamped her hands around his wrist. _Her wolf_.

   “No one who has seen what you’ve done, sacrificed, could ever accuse you of the things he did.” Owein forced her to look at him. _“Deanamh,_ Cassandra. You wore yourself to the bone in the Hinterlands. Helping and giving the Inquisition’s aid to those who were in desperate need. I’ve never known a heretic to pray every night for the lives lost. For those, we couldn’t help. They wouldn’t waste a single breath, tear, or second of sleep on such things.”

   Surprised, Cassandra thought back to those nights in the Hinterlands when she thought the others slumbered and allowed herself a moment to grieve. To absorb the hurt of the needy. She remembered a night or two of the movements in the woods. The shadow of a wolf. _Her wolf,_ her mind corrected. Watching and protecting her in moments of weakness. She should be furious to have someone see her in such a condition, but the knowledge that he saw her at her worst and still respected her in every way staggered Cassandra.

   “Do not allow, even for a moment, the likes of him to discredit your faith. Your work.” Because he ached to kiss her, Owein pressed his brow to hers. “Because it means they win.”

   “Don’t discredit your won actions, Owein,” Cassandra breathed in his early scent. “You did not ask for this life, this responsibility. Yet, you tire yourself just as much. People want to see you as this evil thing because you’re a mage and still, you carry on.”

   He smiled. “I have you to help keep me on track.

   Cassandra made a noise of disagreement.

   Reluctantly, Owein drew away and picked up his pint. “How about we agree to disagree, _M’eudail.”_

   A shiver of warmth worked up her spine at the ancient word twisting in his mixed accents. The look in his eyes told Cassandra the word meant something far more than a friend. “Finish your drink. I need to send that raven to Leliana.”

  “Stay out of trouble.”

  “Trouble follows you, Herald. Not me.”

   “Again, agree to disagree.”

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the language is a mixture of Irish/Scottish/Gaelic as I wanted something more than dalish to work with.   
> Words:  
> Deanamh-Maker  
> M’eudail-Darling


	6. Nightly Conversations

   After meeting Sera, the Red Jenny, who was a rambling elf with an unholy talent with a bow, Owein returned back to the tavern. Needing a bit of solace after the exasperation of talking with Sera, he found Cassandra downstairs and decided to join her.

   Cassandra looked up from the letter she was in the middle of writing. “That was quick.” She watched him drop into the seat beside her before propping his stave against the table. The few people around them began to whisper which she promptly ignored. Lord Seeker’s display in front of the Grand Clerics had the city up in arms when it came to the Herald of Andraste. “No luck?”

   Owein shoved a hand through his disheveled hair. “No, we found her.”

   “And?”

   “She wants to join the Inquisition.” Thinking back to his conversation with the elf, Owein’s brow furrowed. “At least, I think. She’s a bit of a puzzle.”

   The corner of her mouth lifted. “More than you?”

   His laugh helped loosen the weariness in his bones. “Maybe not as complicated.”

   “No shapeshifting?”

   “Not that I can tell.”

   “Good.” Cassandra pushed her half-eaten plate towards him. “Is wolf your only form?”

   The question had his mind shifting. “Isn’t one enough?”

   “Hmm.” Cassandra continued her letter.

   Once again, Owein was baffled by the Seeker’s complete acceptance of what he was and the true depths of his magic. “What?”

   “I thought perhaps you could take other forms.”

   “Why would you think that?”

   “Your hair.”

   He gingerly touched it. “My hair?”

   “All the different shades of brown and copper made me think of a horse’s mane when I first saw you. I’d never seen anything like it.” Cassandra peeked at him from the corner of her eye. “Is that the color of your fur when you transform?”

   “Eh, yes.” It still seemed odd to be open about such things with someone outside of his clan. “About my little trick…”

   “It will stay between us,” Cassandra assured.

   “It will?”

   “Of course.” Capping the ink well, she set aside her quill. “It will be up to you when and if you decide to divulge about your origins to the rest of the Inquisition. By now, you must realize, you have more than earned my trust and respect.”

   Blush dusting his cheeks, Owein busied himself with eating the remains of Cassandra’s meal. He hoped, prayed even, that he never did anything to ever lose either of those things. “I thought you already sent a raven to Leliana.”

   Briefly, Cassandra glanced down. “This is a new one detailing my meeting with Fiona.”

   “She was looking for you, but you’d already left to meet the Red Jenny.”

   Owein rubbed his creased brow. “I thought she’d perished at the Conclave.”

   “She never went. She sent intermediaries in her stead.”

   “That’s… A tad suspicious.”

   Quite. Defiantly enough o give Cassandra pause. After the Lord Seeker’s hostility and odd behavior lost its sting, Cassandra was quick to remember he too was supposed to be at Haven for the negations. Both came out unscathed and now pulling at the Grand Clerics from different sides, furthering the divide over the continuing conflict between the two fractions. “She did on the assumption that it was a trap and therefore things would go south.”

   Owein fisted his left hand. “I think things went far further than that.” Anger began to manifest inside him as doubts of Fiona’s reasoning began to fill his head. Whoever those men were that night were moving Lyrium and lots of it. Turned out to be Red Lyrium that seemed to grown beyond comprehension after the explosion as it was all over the place where the Temple of Sacred Ashes once stood. “Do you think she had something to do with the explosion?”

   Now that the ink was dry, Cassandra began to fold the parchment. “I honestly don’t’ know. I do know she lost a good number of mages, some very close to her.” Cassandra’s mind drifted to one in particular. Galyan had risen quickly through the ranks self-imposed by the rebelling mages, serving rather closely with Fiona herself. It was her directive that had him coming to Haven in the first place.

   Sending her sudden shift into sadness, Owein reached over to take her hand. “Are you okay, Cassandra?”

   Hearing her first name pulled Cassandra out of the pit of sorrow trying to swallow her. “Thinking,” She softly whispered. “Of the lives lost. One particularly close to me.”

   Heart heavy with emotions, his heart began to sink. “I’m sorry. I should have known you lost more than the Divine in the explosion.”

   His silent plea to know more of who she spoke of hung in the air.

   Surprisingly, Cassandra found herself giving the answer freely. “His name was Galyan. A mage I traveled with when I was young.”

   Traveled with? Exactly what did that mean? Had he been trying to flirt, even harmlessly, with her while the woman grieved? He scrubbed a hand over his tired face, kicking himself for assuming that the Seeker’s heart was free. A notion put in his head by the damn Dalish Seer whose words put him on the path to the Conclave. Words spoken to him when he first joined the clan and promptly forgotten over the years as he didn’t put much faith in them.

   “We were lovers once,” Cassandra spoke startling herself more than him. She hadn’t spoken of Galyan since the moment Leliana informed her the mage perished along with so many others in the explosion. “We drifted apart as my duties to the Divine took me one way and his the other. Despite the situation mounting between mages, Templars, and the chantry, we remained good friends. He believed in these talks as much as Justinia. Even the Inquisition after I told him of the Divine’s plan.”

   “You must’ve trusted him very much.”

   “I did.”

   “Maker, Cassandra.” Owein squeezed the hand he still held. “You are truly a remarkable woman.”

   “Owein.”

   He held her in place, gaze bearing down into hers, grip tightening. “This isn’t some off-handed flirtation,” Owein fervently explained. “You have been going since day one, pushing aside the grief of losing two people close to you and perhaps many others from the explosion, to form the Inquisition. To make sure that the Most Holy’s wishes become reality. Reaming strong, being an example for the rest of Thedas by doing something while others wanted to stand by and do nothing. I wonder if even your Maker knows just how strong you are.”

   Face burning, she averted her gaze. “That’s why I don’t want to stop. I need to keep going, to see this through until the end. After, I will allow myself the chance to grieve for the ones I lost. Right now, my efforts are better spent avenging them.”

   Nodding, Owein released her hand. “Did Fiona say anything of interest?”

   “Only that she wishes for you to come see her at Redcliff to discuss certain matters,” Cassandra reported a tad crossed. “She wouldn’t tell me what those matters were.”

   Owein sighed. “Great another trip to the Hinterlands.”

   “We don’t have to go right away. Once we’ve returned to Haven, we shall regroup and discuss our options on where to go from here.”

   “Still going to the Hinterlands at some point,” He muttered.

   Chuckling softly, Cassandra gathered her supplies, stood, only to sit back down when a particular thought overtook her. “I would like to ask you a question as I think the response has changed.”

   “Fire away.”

   “Why were you at the Conclave?”

   _Ah, that._ “My answer wasn’t untruthful.”

   “You simply omitted bits and pieces.”

   “The Conclave was even stirring great interest with the Dalish,” Owein softly spoke so others wouldn’t overhear. “They knew whatever was decided there would change the course of history.”

   “So, you were there to spy.”

   Owein winced at the word. “In a sense.”

   “Why you?”

   “The Keeper figured sending an elf would cause a bit more of a stir.” Owein rubbed the back of his neck.

   Cassandra tilted her head. “There is more.”

   “Yes,” Owein admitted. “The Seer of our clan, the same who blessed me with my new name all those years ago, reminded me of a vision of sorts she had involving me. She said I would find what I’ve truly been seeking since I was casted out from my home at Haven.”

   “And have you?”

   Owein studied her face with a bit more interest then he should. “Perhaps.”

   “Good for you then.” Now, Cassandra stood. “Finish eating and get some rest. You can fill me in about this Red Jenny in the morning.”

   Baffled by her response, he looked up at her. “That’s it? No badgering me with questions about what the Seer said? Or demand I tell you everything about me?”

   She smiled. “I won’t lie, I am more than a bit curious to what the seer said to have you rising your neck to insert yourself into the conflict the Dalish were trying to stay out of. But, like with your name, magic, and life with the Dalish, you’ll tell me in good time.”

   “Me holding back doesn’t bother you?”

   “A little,” Cassandra confessed. “I told you before, I trust you, Owein. IF I thought you were a danger or a threat to the Inquisition, I would’ve dispatched you already.”

   “Noted.”

   “Goodnight, Owein.”

   “Night, _M’eudail_.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

   Sadly, sleep didn’t come for the Seeker. Her mind was preoccupied with all the questions she did want to ask him. Who was Owein Trevelyan? She did trust him, that hadn’t been a lie, but she was more than curious. Exactly what did the Seer mean? Exactly what had Owein been searching for since the tender age of six?  Life with the Dalish must’ve been a difficult adjustment, even if it was a much happier life than being locked up in the Circle. How did Owein stand it? What other tricks did he learn from his clan?

   And what in the Blight did _M’eudail_ truly mean _?_

There was one thing Cassandra did know. Owein was in her head and heart twisting it all up.

  Restless and unable to sleep Cassandra crossed the room and opened the door, yelping in surprise as a mass fell at her feet. “Maker’s breath.” She went for the dagger at the small of her back only to relax upon recognizing the voice behind a stream of curses. “Owein?”

   “Please mind your step, my lady,” The Herald pleased gaze up at her. “My face is one thing. Other areas are a tad more sensitive.”

   “Why in the Blight are you sleeping outside my door?”

   “I’m not now if you haven’t noticed,” Owein shot back. “Help me up.”

   On a disgruntled noise, Cassandra held out her hand, trying her best to ignore the pleasant feeling radiating up her arm the moment their palms touched. A rather hard task since moments ago her mind was occupied with thoughts of him. “You didn’t answer my question.”

   “Well, ah…” Owein stood, clearing his throat to dislodge the words tangled there. “It’s rather simple really.”

   “Is that so?”

   Under her gaze, Owein rubbed the back of his neck. “I simply wanted to make sure you were safe.” Through the shadows, he saw surprise flash across her face. “After what happened in Haven…”

   “The gesture is appreciated.” Cassandra hated the guilt she heard in his voice. “But I doubt there is a risk of that happening here.”

   As foolish as his actions seemed, Owein held his ground. “After our run in with the Lord Seeker, I thought a different type of attack may happen.”

   “The Lord Seeker would only hurt his cause bout outright attacking a member of the Inquisition.”

   “Need I remind you of his little stunt in front of the Grand Clerics?”

   “Of course not, but I’m capable of taking care of myself,” Cassandra quickly shot back. “I am in no need for a White Knight, Herald.”

   “I know that.” Owein stepped closer, stopping himself before he touched her and made a fool of himself. A rather hard task. He’d been drawn to her since the beginning. Now, that she knew everything, well mostly everything, about him and accepted it, that pull ways becoming overwhelming. “It’s just… _Anáil Déantóra_ …There is this want, no, need inside me. A need to protect you at all cost.” 

   Cassandra sucked in a sharp breath. “Owein.”

   “I can’t explain it, but I know you feel it too.” Or at least Owein hoped he hadn’t miss read the signals. “This connection that puts you on edge. Blight it, same goes for me.”

   “You’re right. It does put me on edge,” Cassandra whispered softly, gripping the handle of the door as her knees began to knock together. Maybe it was the early hours or lack of sleep that loosened her tongue. Or the simple fact she couldn’t truly ignore things that smoldered between them. “Because I fear that, whatever this is between us, may cause you to take risks that put you in harm’s way.”

   Her answer caught Owein off guard. His heart nearly exploded from his chest. “Cassandra.”

   “No, don’t.” Cassandra’s firm tone stopped Owein from reaching out regardless of how much she ached for him to do so. “You are the Herald of Andraste.”

   “A title and nothing more,” Owein argued.

   “You’re also the only means to close the breach. Your life is far more important than mine.”

   Heat flooded his gaze. “I beg to differ.”

   “Don’t you see, Owein. It’s that very reason we have to resist this connection, these feelings, because we can’t afford to be distracted. To make mistakes.”

   Now, Owein touched her by taking her by the shoulder, stopping her from turning away. “I’ve made plenty of mistake in my life and this isn’t one, Cassandra.”

   “You must put your feelings aside.”

   “You’re asking my heart not to beat.”

   Cassandra’s breath caught, voice trembled in response to the intensity of his words. She pressed a hand against his chest to keep him at bay. A task much harder than it should’ve been. Maker, she needed to remain level headed here. “We have a mission. One that needs our full attention because lives depend on us. If you were to allow whatever this is between us to cloud your judgment and we fail-.”

   Owein laid a hand over hers. “Duty,” He whispered. “I’ve never been good at that.”

   “It’s all I’ve ever known.”

   “You said to put my feelings aside.” Owein angled his head downwards. “Does that mean once the Breach is closed…”

   “If we’re both standing when this is all said and done.” Cassandra found herself caught in his copper gaze. “I doubt I can walk away from you. I don’t want.”

   “ _Déantóir_ , woman.” Trapping her between his body and the jam of the door, he buried his face in her throat. Her scent had been haunting him from their very first encounter inside the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Owein struggled to keep himself in check. “I don’t know if I can do what you’re asking, but I vow to you that I will try.”

   Emotions running wild, Cassandra wrapped her arms around him. “Do more than try. I can’t lose you, Owein.”

   And he couldn’t lose her. Owein tried to untangle the words from his throat. Instead, he held her tighter. She was the first person outside of his clan that accepted and cared for him.

   “Owein.”

   “Yes.” Basking in the warmth filling his chest, he nuzzled her cheek.

   “You need to let me go,” Cassandra whispered even if it was the last thing she wanted. Once again, she pushed her personal want away for the sake of duty.

   “I don’t know if I can if I’m being honest.”

   Cassandra laughed softly and gave him a soft push. “Go get some sleep, Owein.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth. “In a bed and not outside my door. Maker forbid, the dwarf finds you sleeping outside my door. His mind will start running rampant with ideas.”

   He leaned in close once again, watching her eyes darken with a hunger that nearly broke his resolve. “Would his imagination be wrong?”

   She swallowed hard. “No, no it wouldn’t.” Once again, she placed a hand against his chest. “Restraint, Herald.”

   Hearing his title knocked him back a step. Owein bowed his head. “ _Oíche mhaith_ , my lady.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

   “You’re getting better,” Cassandra praised as Owein dismounted his horse with only a bit of clumsiness.

   Huffing, the Mage tied the reins of his horse to the post outside the stables. “Still fell,” He bitterly reminded. “Twice.”

   Cassandra followed his suit and tied off her reins. “At least it wasn’t in front of Varric.”

   “Somehow I think that would’ve been better than Sera. She hasn’t shut up about it.”

   “I’m beginning to think she never shuts up.”

   Owein laughed, pleased to see Cassandra smiling. Please, that despite the intense conversation in Val Royeaux, hadn’t changed the dynamic between them. Still, knowing she wanted him, cared, made it hard for Owein to keep himself in check. For now, he would simply cherish their friendship and look forward to the day, which was hopefully soon, they closed the Breach. “Where did she run off to?”

   Cassandra unbuckled her pack from the horse’s saddle. “Said something about the Tavern and needing a drink. I think Varric followed to get her settled and keep her out of trouble.” Merely after five days of traveling with the elf, Cassandra had a feeling Sera was going to cause her fair share.

   “And where did the Queen of mages go?”

   “Queen of… Really?”

   Displeasure settling on his face, Owein slid his stave onto his back. “The entire journey back, she drawled on and on about how magic is meant to serve man. That mages should ben and allow themselves to be locked into the circles. Kept using herself as the prime example of what a mage should be.” Owein didn’t realize how tightly he was gripping the post until Cassandra slid her hand over his, coaxing his fingers from the piece of wood. Maker’s breath! Anger quickly shifted into unfathomed desire to have her. “Easy for her to say, give her life is spent at Court. Not in the Circles she so adamantly supports.”

   Cassandra moved her fingers over the disfigured skin of his left forearm. “I’m sorry, Owein.” Her voice was soft and laced with guilt. “For the suffering, you’ve endured. The circles… They weren’t… The idea was right, but the practice was not.”

   “No, they weren’t,” Owein agreed. “But those matters won’t be solved until we’ve closed the breach. Come, let’s get to the War Room and give our advisors a rundown on the two newest Inquisition members.”

   Quite reluctantly, Cassandra’s hand fell away and purposely put a few feet of space between them. It wasn’t a surprise that it shrank considerably before they even hit the main gates. Keeping her gaze forward, since her body was working on its own accord, she thought back to their conversation in Val Royeaux. Logically, putting aside their feelings was the best course of action. And, if Cassandra prided herself on anything, it was being logical.

   Yet, with Owein, she was finding that quite hard. His hand brushed against hers as they turned up the path leading to the chantry causing a pleasantly warm feeling to build in her chest. Could she truly abide by the boundaries she self-imposed? Every interaction with the man, no matter how small, started weakening her resolve to remain professional. To stay focused on duty. But the light. He made her see the lighter side of life even when it was filled with darkness at the moment. Even Leliana noted before they left, she seemed to be laughing more given the circumstances of the last month.

   Maybe, just maybe, they could-. _No!_ Cassandra silently shook her head clear. The Breach was first. That had to be their first priority.

   “Ah, I see the Queen of Mages has found a nice spot,” Owein muttered spotting her as they entered the Chantry. Not wanting to be dragged into another one-sided conversation with Vivienne, he placed a hand on the small of the Seeker’s back, guiding her faster down the hall. It took him a moment or two to realize he was rather close and touching her. “I umm… I’m sorry.”

   She closed her eyes on a long sigh.

   After a quick sweep of the area to ensure that they were indeed alone, Owein tugged her into the shadows of an alcove near the back of the Chantry. “Look at me.”

   “Owein,” Cassandra tried to argue, keeping her gaze fixed over his shoulder.  

   “Cassandra, _le do thoil_ , look at me.” He put a bit of heat behind his voice and waited for her to comply. “I’m sorry I can’t keep myself away from you. Believe it or not, I’m trying rather hard.”

   Her fingers dug into his hips.

   “You gave me something to hope for, a first for me. So, please, don’t pull away,” Owein softly pleaded. “I need your friendship. I _need_ you.”

   “It would be for the better,” Cassandra spoke even if she hated herself for it.

   “ _M’eduall.”_

Her stomach began to knot. “That doesn’t mean friend does it?”

   Owein swallowed hard. “No, it doesn’t.”

   “We must do better,” Cassandra softly chastised. “Try harder. We must see this through before we allow ourselves too…”

   “You know, the Dalish are known to be rather affectionate, even with friends.”                                                                                                                                             

    She found herself drowning in his copper gaze. “Do the Dalish look at their friends the way you’re looking at me right now?”

   Shaking his head, Owein swore she heard him let out a soft sigh of relief. Placed a tender kiss to her brow, Owein stepped back, elated by the color in her cheeks. “I’ll meet you in the War Room.”

   “Yes.” She leaned back against the wall. “I need a moment or two.”

   Owein couldn’t help but smile.

   “Stop that, you smug bastard.”

   “I’ll try my best.”

   Cassandra groaned. “Try harder.”

   Owein found the three advisors in the War Room leaning over the map tacked to the table.

   Cullen looked up the instant the mage stepped in the room. “Welcome back, Herald.”

   “Please.” Owein tried to keep the bite from his voice. “Do not call me that.”

   “Trevelyan?”

   “That’s better.”

   “Where is Cassandra?” Leliana wondered anxiously to see her friend. She hadn’t known about what led to their hasty departure until after they’d left Haven.

   “Right here,” The Seeker assured entering and standing beside Owein at the front of the war table.

   The Spymaster raked her gaze over the female warrior. “How are you feeling? Cullen told-.”

   Cassandra quickly cut her off. “I’m fine.” She looked to find Cullen’s golden eyes filled with the same concern as Leliana. “I would like to know one thing and not bring up what happened again.”

   Knowing what Cassandra was about to ask, Cullen gripped the hilt of his sword, a scowl appearing on his face. “They’re gone,” He assured. “We healed enough so they could walk and sent them packing. I had a few men take them out of Ferelden, towards Emprise du Lion.”

    Thinking of the men, Owein fisted his hands when they shook with rage. “How do we know they won’t sneak back into Haven?”

   “I have instructed my men to make sure they don’t. We had half the mind to lock them up at an asylum, to be honest,” Cullen informed. “They kept rambling on about a wolf of some sort.”

   From the corner of his eye, Owein saw Cassandra’s lips twitch ever so slightly. “A horror spells can work wonders on a frightened mind.”

   Josephine raised a brow. “I thought you were an elemental mage.”

   “The circle teaches all manner of spells,” Owein reminded. “I just prefer elemental is all.”

   “There is something else,” Cullen hesitantly spoke. “Something I’m sure either of you might not particularly like.”

   Cassandra straightened her spine, her own hand finding the hilt of the sword attached at her hip. Her heart was hammering in her chest in fear, not for herself, but for Owein. She’d sworn to protect his secret until Owein was ready to come forth with the information willingly himself. After a quick glance, she found Owen’s face stoic. “And that is?”

   “They know about what transpired,” Leliana spoke before the Commander could. “Well, not everything. They know that you were cornered and Owein intervened.”

   “How?” Cassandra demanded.

   Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “Haven is small and no stranger to gossip, especially if the Hera-Sorry, Trevelyan is involved.”

   “Because they’re waiting for me to screw up,” Owein murmured mostly to himself.

   “How?”

   “I took the men to the same healers I did the day you attacked them out of the chantry.” Cullen kept his gaze trained on the Seeker. “I grab the same guards I used before and thought for sure that our tracks would be covered by taking the men to the healers in the dead of night. It must’ve been an appearance that overheard everything. It started out as whispers, but now it’s common knowledge.”

    Owein rubbed a hand over his bearded face. “Great. Guess I’ll have to look over my shoulder every moment of every day. Maybe move my tent into the woods.”

   “You miss understand,” Leliana started. “They do not fear you, Trevelyan. They admire you.”

   He looked at the trio baffled. “Admire me? Half the town still wants my head on a spike.”

   “Not anymore,” Josephine assured. “They know of the day the Templars jumped outside the back of the Chantry. They knew how you wanted to keep it quiet to broker peace. They saw that as a very gallant thing to do.”

   Leliana gave the mage a small smile. “And now, to protect the Seeker, the founder of the Inquisition, has them growing comfortable with you being a mage almost overnight.”

   “I… Umm…” Owein resisted the urge to fidget. At least no one had seen him in his altered form or Cassandra leaving his tent in the early morning hours. “I guess we’ll figure out what that means later. Right now, we’ve come to discuss our trip to Val Royeaux.”

   Cullen’s brow furrowed. “I was quite disturbed by the Templar’s presence and actions in front of the Grand Clerics.”

   “Don’t forgetting about the smite,” Owein added shuddering at the memory. “Can’t forget about that. The Lord Seeker wanted to make a statement, I’m not sure it was the one he was hoping for.”

   “No to mention Fiona’s invitation to Redcliff,” Josephine added. “Though it’s still unclear what she wants and if it’s wise to go.”

   “Do we have to decide now?” Owein asked feeling a headache starting to from. All he wanted to do was crawl into his tent and sleep for the next day or two.

   Studying the mage’s face, Leliana tilted her head. “Templar or Mage, we must have to pick a side to investigate and sooner rather than later.”

   “First, can we concentrate on our two newest members of the Inquisition?” Owein pleaded. He didn’t have it in him to be making such radical decisions without time to think it through.

   “Yes, I met Lady Vivienne.” The Ambassador blushed ever so slightly. “She is something else.”

   Owein rolled his eyes. “That’s an understatement. Just wait until you meet Sera.”

   “How do you feel about the Storm Coast?” Cullen wondered.

   Owein raised a brow. “I really never been there.”

   The Commander handed over a folded piece of parchment to the Herald. “We had a visitor while you were away. A Qunari that goes by the Iron Bull has requested to meet you. From what I could gather, he is quite the warrior and has a band of men called the Chargers that could benefit the Inquisition.”

   Cassandra took the note to read it herself. “That’s a long way to go for a meeting.”

   “Our leads to the disappearing Wardens have also pointed to the Storm Coast,” Leliana filled in trying not to think back to the loss of her friend and Warden during the Firth Blight.  “We are currently investigating a claim of a Warden by the name of Blackwall that is currently in the Hinterlands trying to recruit into the order’s ranks.”

   Owein couldn’t hold back the sigh. “Let me guess, you want me to meet with him too?”

   Cullen offered him an apologetic smile. “We need all the help we can get to be honest. Plus, there are whispers of the Wardens slowly disappearing from both Orlais and Ferelden.”

   The news had Cassandra looking up from the letter. “That can’t be a coincidence.”

   “I’m afraid not,” Leliana answered on a long sigh. “I don’t know how this links to the Conclave, but it’s worth investigating.”

   Owein rubbed a hand over his tired face. “Do I at least get a day or two of rest?”

   “Three if you would like,” The Commander quipped drawing a smile from the mage. “We have a lot to talk about before you set out. For now, get some rest. Both of you look exhausted.”

   “Spend an hour with Sera and you will know why,” Owein grumbled. “I will pen a report and deliver it first thing in the morning if not before nightfall. And, Cullen. Thank you.”

   The man’s face hardened once more. “They deserved worse than banishment.”

   Owein nodded. “I agree.” He glanced at Cassandra. “I’m just glad that our Seeker is okay.”

   “It’s over and done with,” Cassandra sharply reminded. “I would rather it not be mentioned outside of this moment again.”

   Leliana offered her friend a smile. “Good job on busting on three of their noses among other things.”

   Owein’s own lips curved upward. “I know now not to cross the Seeker. I hope Varric learns that lesson before he experiences her wrath.”

 

 

Translations:

_Anáil Déantóra- Maker’s Breath_

_Déantóir- Maker_

_Oíche mhaith- Goodnight_

_le do thoil-please_

_M’eduall-my darling_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some might seem this chapter a bit forward in certain character development, but this isn't a when will they/won't they fic. It's about how and what's pulling them closer with each passing day.


	7. Research

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a bit of in-game content in here, but not too much.

   Going to Redcliff put on hold much to Owein’s relief. They figured a trip to the Storm Coast was a better option at the moment. Owein figured it was because the advisors of the Inquisition were at odds on whether they should seek out the Templars or Mages for assistance on closing the Breach. But, as Cassandra kindly pointed out to put an end to Josephine’s and Cullen’s bickering, they didn’t have enough influence to approach either party. At least not safely, in terms of the Templars, or effectively when it came to the rebel mages. The one thing Owein hoped for was rest and it seemed it would get two or maybe three days as they were resupplying of their trip.

    The first morning upon returning from Val Royeaux, Owein noted something that was both baffling and startling at the same time. The people no longer regarded him with pure hatred. Not even the former Templars. Of course, there was still tension between the two. Cullen even had to insert himself into an argument that was incited by Rodrick. Owein stepped up to intervene and the people actually listened to him. Regarded his opinion on the matter. Even, if it was possible, respected him.

    Owein was still pondering the change as he found himself making his way to the training yard once again. It seemed staying away from Cassandra was a task he was finding impossible. At least, he sought her out for friendly conversation and nothing more. Even if his heart was begging him for him to push. To scale the walls, she erected around her heart. For now, he had to be content on pushing at the bricks. Owein was surprised that Cassandra wasn’t going at it with the training dummies or sparing, but instead, sitting on a long at the edge of the frozen lake.

    “Good afternoon,” Owein greeted.

     Surprised by his sudden appearance, Cassandra’s head jerked around. “Afternoon.”

    He noted the book in her hand. “What are you reading?”

   She quickly shut it and tucked it away from sight. “It’s research.”

   “Research?” Owein echoed, a bit of a laugh in his voice. The scowl she sent him had his heart fluttering. Maker, he did love the fire inside her. “May I?”

    Considering it for a moment, Cassandra shook her head. “I heard about the incident in front of the Chantry.” She waited until he sat down beside her. “I could hear you and Cullen yelling all the way from the training yard. What did Rodrick do this time?”

   Owein let out a slow breath. “Being an ass, what else.” He rubbed a hand over his tired face. “I think he sensed that the people in Haven were actually getting along and wanted to put a fire between them once again.”

    Her face hardened. “He did what?”

   Owein lifted a shoulder. “Cullen defused the situation rather quickly. The people actually listened to me when I spoke. It was quite a strange reaction really.”

    She bumped his legs with hers. “That means they are coming to their senses and realizing all you want to do is help close the Breach. That you didn’t have anything to do with the explosion.”

   “Try telling that to Rodrick. I still am expecting him to sneak into my tent, tie me up, and drag me to Val Royeaux.”

   “He will have to get through me first and I won’t let that happened.

   “Do you ice skate?” Owein asked sensing the need to change the conversation. They would have their fill of conversation about duty and battle plans in the upcoming days when they left for the Storm Coast. Owein preferred to spend this quiet moment about lighter things.

   Cassandra arched a brow. “Ice skate?”

   He gestured to the large frozen lake. “Yes, skating on ice. Doesn’t Nevarra have deep winters where warden hardens like this?”

   “I-it does,” Cassandra whispered. “But no, to answer your question, I’ve never ice skated. Is that a common thing amongst the clans?”

   “Somewhat. I actually remember learning to ice skating when I was a boy with my brother.” A sad smile touched his face. He didn’t think of his family much as that was simply inviting pain to seep into old wounds that never quite healed. Now that his mind was on the topic, Owein wondered what became of his siblings. Even wonder if his father, the bastard he may be, was even alive. Did that make him evil to hope he was dead? That would mean his siblings would be free of the tyrant Bann who ruled his house with more than an iron fist.

   After joining the Dalish, Owein discovered the painful news that his twin sister, Maddie, had died. Worse still, she had killed herself after their father arranged a marriage to a much older Arl from neighboring land. She’d only been sixteen winters.

    “That sounded fun,” Cassandra whispered. Bu the tension now apparent in his shoulder, that pleasant memory quickly faded into some unhappy ones.

   Owein shook his head free of the thoughts of his father as the man didn’t deserve even a moment of his time. Plus, Owein came out here to seek out the joy of being near Cassandra. “Not a Navarran past time?”

   Cassandra contemplated her answer, not wanting to plunge the conversation back into one of pain. Yet, she didn’t want to brush it off or seem like she was closing herself off to him. “Ah, actually, I wouldn’t know. Never really saw much of my home country.”

   Copper eyes filled with confusion. “What do you mean?”

   “After my parents were killed for their part in staging the coop to overthrow the Navarran Kind, I-I mean-we were sent to my uncle where he kept me being a gilded cage. He let my brother do as he pleased as my uncle knew he couldn’t use Anthony for any political gain.” Cassandra took a moment to collect her scattered thoughts. They tended to do that whenever she allowed herself to think or talk about Anthony. “Even with my parent’s sins hanging over my head, Uncle saw and used me as a pawn to get back in the good graces of the King. I come from a line of fierce dragon hunters.”

   Owein’s mouth twitched. “Do you now?”

   She simply shook her head. “Anthony took to it naturally and even worked with the King’s brother, becoming quite famous for their skills. Thankfully, Anthony never left me alone for too long.” A small hitch of breath caught in her throat. Tears threatened to fall, taking her by surprise. It was easy to open herself to him, even without him asking, because she knew, how was still a matter up for debate, that he would never judge her for anything she said or emotion shown. Outside of Leliana and perhaps now, given the close nature of their relationship when they first met, Cullen, Cassandra always remained in control. Never showing weakness or anything that could be perceived as such. “We were the only family we had left. Once he was gone, I fled my home country and never looked back.”

   Owen found her hand seeking his. Taking it, they linked fingers. There was something oddly comforting about the simple touch. Talking to her, opening, and not having to omit bits and pieces of his life, had Owein feeling something he hadn’t in a very long time. Perhaps the Seer was right. He would find his place, among other things, here in Haven. “I know it’s not easy being displaced from your home even if wasn’t the best one.”

   “I’ve learned something in all my time traveling and being a Seeker.” Her gaze shifted almost on their own accord to his. “Homes isn’t-or I should rather say-doesn’t haven’t to be a place with four walls and a roof. Or a place on the map. Though I do look forward to the day of settling down somewhere nice and quiet with the ones I love.”

   Owein’s heart kicked pleasantly in his chest. His mind came roaring to life with a jumble of words, thoughts, and dreams. Not wanting to interrupt or break the moment, he held his tongue.

   “Home is what you make it. It’s a feeling. Anywhere you want it to be, as long as you’re happy and surrounded by people that support and only want the best for you.” Her dark eyes shined brightly with emotions. “Don’t you agree?”

   “Yes,” Owein replied maybe a too feverishly. “Yes, I do.”

   “Lady Cassandra?”

   The interruption by the scout disengaged their small little world of privacy. Owein watched the Seeker’s expression shift. Turning soft to hard as she removed her hand from his and turned to return back to the fearless warrior he admitted dearly. Curling his fingers, he tried to trap the warmth left from her touch.

   “Yes, Rylen.” Cassandra addressed Cullen’s second in command.

   Looking between the two, the man with the tattooed chin hesitated, trying to figure if it was best to retreat and come back later. “Ah, well.” He stood straighter under Owein’s slightly stern gaze. “I’ve just come from talking with Cullen. He might… I mean…”

   Concern overtook the annoyance of the interruption knowing exactly why Rylen was here. “Of course.” Standing, Cassandra squeezed the mage’s shoulder. “Thank you for the company, Trevelyan.”

   Owein smiled even if he wanted to ask what was happening. Since Cassandra was being more than patient waiting for him to divulge more about his life, he owed her the same courtesy. “Any time, my lady.”

   She smiled following after Rylen. She hated when people addressed her by that title, though princess was far worse, it was oddly pleasing coming from him.

   Sighing, Owein swept his gaze back to the frozen lake, spotting Cassandra’s abandoned book in the process. Research, she said. Curiosity had him picking it up and what he found etched into the leather spine made him smile.

   _The Tale of the Champion_ by Varric Tethras.

   So, Cassandra’s research was reading one of the dwarf’s books? Owein found it quite amusing. What other softer things would he uncover about the tough as nails Seeker? A bigger question: Did Varric know? Most likely not seeing how the rogue would never let Casandra hear the end of it.

   “How’s it going, Greenie?”

   Speaking of…

   Owein groaned. “Still have thought of a better one?”

   “Working on it,” Varric promised sitting next to the Herald. His face lit up the moment he saw what was in the man’s hands. “Where’d you find a copy of that?”

   “Ah…” Owein scrambled to come up with a believable lie since if he ousted Cassandra, they’d both endure her wrath. “Leliana lent it to me after I told her I didn’t know much about Hawke or the vents leading to the scuffle in Kirkwall.”

   Varric gave him a sideways glance. “You mentioned something similar to me back in the Hinterlands. I don’t get how. Especially, given you’re a mage.”

   Owein thumbed through the well-read pages. How many times had Cassandra indulged in the grand tale of the Champion? “I know what Anders did and his so-called justifications, but didn’t know how sire the situation was in Kirkwall.”

   “Hmm.” Varric stroked a finger over his dented chin. “I was right when I pinpointed your accent, but the more we talk, the more I hear something beneath your Free Marcher’s burr.”

   “Is that so?” Owein tried not to panic, Varric was a storyteller, always asking questions and searching for something exciting to talk about. And the dwarf was rather good about spinning a take. Owein had found himself enamored by one of his stories by the campfire one night during the excursion to the Hinterlands.

   “I can’t place it.”

   The mage smiled. “If you think you’re going to pry something out of me, guess again Varric.”

   “No, no,” Varric quickly spoke. “Don’t. I like a good mystery. Helps keep things interesting.”

   “Glad I can help.”

   “I do know something,” Varric stated. “You’re no ordinary circle mage.”

   Owein swallowed the rising panic. “Is that so?”

   “You’re too adept at living off the land. Too comfortable in a camp setting to have been locked up in a tower all your life.”

   “I wasn’t born into the circle you know.”

   “Six out of thirty winters spent outside one wouldn’t give you that much skill. Did you escape?”

    “I-well…” Owein would’ve lied, but didn’t see the need as long as she didn’t divulge everything. Plus, he felt a friendship growing with the dwarf. “In a sense.”

   Grinning, Varric snapped his fingers. “Knew it! Nightingale owes me ten gold coins!”

   The mage lifted a brow. “You two were betting on such a thing?”

   “That and more. Not all centered around you,” Varric assured noting the panic in the Herald’s copper eyes. “You know, Leliana thrives on knowing everything about anything and everyone. It’s driving her insane that she keeps hitting dead ends when it comes to you.”

   Letting out a slow breath, Owein closed the book. He knew everyone was curious about who he was and where he came from. To uncover something that either tied him to the explosion or exonerated him. Josephine stopped him the same day they returned from Val Royeaux to ask him about the ties with his family. To feel out if they could use his noble name and his family’s connection to further the Inquisition’s cause. Owein expertly dodged the woman’s inquiries the best he could without lying. He did sense the Ambassador knew more about him then she was letting on. Owein didn’t understand why she was sitting whatever information she had tucked up her sleeve. Regardless, Owein was truthful in telling her that his family cut all ties with him the moment his magic manifest and his father rather liked to think him dead, therefore, wouldn’t support anything he was associated with.

   Wanting to change the topic, Owein held up the book. “How much of what’s in here is true?”

   Varric gave him a mock look of horror. “Me? Make things up? I would never!”

   “Right.”

   “Just because the Seeker things I do, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

   “Right,” Owein repeated on a laugh. “Guess I shall read it for myself then badger you with follow up questions.”

   “As long as you don’t take after the Seeker and Nightingale and ask me a thousand times where Hawke is.”

   “They were looking for her?”

   Varric threw his hands up in the air. “How do you think I got involved in this shit show? They came to Kirkwall, kidnapped me, and demanded I tell them everything about what happened and what Hawke’s involvement truly was.”

   “Why?”

   “You think either of them told me that? They were looking for the Hero of Ferelden as well.”

   “Hmpf?”

   “Regardless how I was dragged into this, quite literally I might add, I’m here to stay.” Varric gaze diffed to the jagged tear in the sky. “The Seeker may think me as a useless and stumbling fool, but I couldn’t walk away from all this and still have a clear conscious.”

   Owein looked down at Cassandra’s book. “I think you misjudge what her feelings are towards you. Cassandra doesn’t seem to the type to keep dead weight around.”

   Varric chuckled. “Probably right. She’ll never admit to such a thing.”

   “No,” Owein agree laughing. “Still won’t stop you from getting under her skin to get a rise out of her or to say it aloud.”

   A huge grin broke out across Varric’s face. “Pissing off the Seeker is my newest and most favorite hobby.”

   Owein shook his head. “She’s going to throw you off a mountain one day.”

   “Nah. I’m too charming.”

   “Not sure your definition of that word and hers match, my friend.”

   “Probably not.” Tone growing serious, Varric face sobered. “Look, I heard what happened to her and what you did.”

   Now knowing what to expect, Owein tensed, waiting anxiously for the dwarf to continue.

   “Just because me and the Seeker don’t see eye to eye, doesn’t mean I don’t admire what she’s trying to do here.” Varric was quick to glare at Owein. “Never repeat that.”

   Owein started to feel his body start to relax. “Lips are sealed.”

   “Anyways, it doesn’t mean I wish any ill will on her. Heard she held her own the best she could, but I’m glad you came along.”

   “Same,” Owein whispered. Thinking back to that night, of the complete terror on her face when that bastard tried too… Maker, it made his blood boil and thirst for revenge. For a harsher punishment then they got.

   “Also heard they went after you first. I understand why didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. You’re a good man, Trevelyan.”

   “For a mage, you mean.”

   “Nope,” Varric replied. “My best friend is a mage, mind you. And, Hawke, she’s good people too.”

   “Thanks, Varric.”

   The storyteller simply shrugged. “Never agreed to the whole ‘magic make you evil.’ It’s the choices you make that shows your true character.”

   “Oy! Dwarf!” Sera’s voice came screeching from the front gates. “Are you going to sit there all day yakking or you gonna me that crossbow of yours.”

   Sighing, Varric rubbed a hand over his face. “Why did you stick her with me again?”

   “It’s like looking in a mirror.”

   “I am not that bad!” Varric argued.

   “Could be worse. You could have the Queen of Mages breathing down your neck.”

   “Queen of… Oh! That’s good.” Laughing, Varric stood and climbed over the log. “Almost as good as Iron Lady.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

   “So, it’s true!” The Qunari known as Iron Bull’s booming laughter lifted above the sound of the crashing waves. Barely phased by the battle, he looked Owein over from head to toe. “The Chantry must love you! A mage as the Herald of Andraste!”

   A little out of breach from using his magic on such a larger scale, Owein found himself leaning against his stave to remain upright. Not the first impression he was hoping for. “You must be the Iron Bull.”

   Bull’s eyes, well eye, in this case, was filled with mirth. “Horns kind of give it away does it not. I was beginning to think my invitation was going to be turned down.” He tilted one of his monstrous sized horns towards the hill where the Inquisition had set up a base camp. “Short stuff over there wouldn’t give me much information on much of anything. She’s a feisty one, by the way.”

   Krem, Bull’s second in command, cleared his throat. “Throat cutters are done chief.”

   “Already? Have them check again. I don’t want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away.” Bull’s voice grew soft for a moment. “No offense, Krem.”

   The jab didn’t seem to faze the Lieutenant. In fact, the man gave the Qunari a crooked smiled. “None taken. Least bastard known who his mother was. Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?”

   “Right you are, Krem,” Bull agreed letting the man go on about his task.

   Cassandra made a noise in the back of her throat. “An odd way to talk to one of your men.”

   Bull smiled. “Krem is a good man. He gives as good as he gets.” The Qunari waved a massive hand to dismiss the conversation. His attention was fully on the Seeker now, the light in his eyes shifting from amusement to appraisal. “You fight well. Can give anyone of my Charger a good run for their money.”

   A prickle of jealousy formed in the bit of Owein’s stomach. He made sure to keep it from his voice. “Chargers? Is that your company?” Owein looked out at the men and women of all races wearing similar colors even if their armor didn’t match. “Band of mercenaries, am I right? Are you asking for me to hire you?”

   “Not you as much as the Inquisition,” Bull replied. “Chargers are an added bonus.”

   “They do seem to be quite adept,” Cassandra offered looking herself. Varric and Sera were already striking up conversations with a few of them and even helping themselves to the ale Bull demanded to be open in celebration.

   The Qunari frowned ever so slightly. “Just my men?”

   Biting back a sigh, Cassandra rolled her eyes.

   “Anyway, you need a frontline bodyguard. Though It seems you’ve taken a step in the right direction with the Seeker here.” Bull smiled. “I’m your man. Whatever it is-demons, dragons? The bigger the better.”

   Owein exchanged a glance with Cassandra. “You said it yourself, I got myself handled pretty well already. Well else are you offering?”

   “There is one other thing,” Bull replied lowering his voice just enough to be heard over the crashing waves. “It might be useful. Might even piss you off.”

   “Oh?” Owein asked intrigued.

   “Do you know of the Ben-Hassrath?” Bull waited until Owein nodded before he continued. “The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere.”

   Owein raised a brow while enjoying the cold rain beating down on his warm face. “I sense there is more.”

   “I’ve been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what’s happening,” Bull confessed. His word put Cassandra on full alert. He held up his hands to calm her but found her blade pointed at him. “Easy now. Remember, I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, I’ll share them with your people.”

   Slightly pleased about her protectiveness, Owein placed a hand on her shoulder. “Calm, Cass. He maybe Qunari spy, but he chose to come clean instead of hiding it.” Better than what he was currently doing. Hiding who he was from all the advisors and their companions.

   “Look, whatever happened at the Conclave thing, it’s bad,” Bull continued. “Someone needs to get the Breach closed and it seems the Inquisition is the only one doing a damn thing about it. Whatever I may be, know that I am on your side.”

   Cassandra lowered her blade but kept her hardened gaze pinned on the Qunari. “And what will be in these reports you send back?”

   “Enough to keep my superiors happy. Nothing that’ll compromise your operations. The Qunari want to know if they need to launch an invasion to stop the whole damn world from falling apart.” That little tidbit caught both humans’ attention. Qunari in the South wasn’t something that they would want. “Let me send word of what you’re doing, it’ll put some minds at ease. That’s good for everyone.”

    Not knowing much about the race outside of the somewhat invasion in Kirkwall thanks to Varric’s book, Owein looked to Cassandra for guidance.

   “He’s right,” Cassandra agreed finally sheathing her blade. “We don’t want a bunch of Qunari thinking they need to start an invasion when the land is preoccupied with all the rifts and the Breach.”

   Bull smiled. “Sensible woman.”

   “Since information seems to be something, you’re adept at getting, do you know anything about this group of Bandits that have taken some of our men?” Owein wondered since Scout Harding hadn’t given him much to go on or a place to start looking.

   “Ah yes. The Blade of Hessarian. Have you not heard of them?”

   Owein glanced at Cassandra gain. “Should I?”

   “They’re a religious militia or more of an Andrastian cult,” Cassandra informed a bite in her voice. “They claim they are serving Andraste and whoever proves worthy of wielding them. Their name even refers to Archon Hessarian’s killing of Andraste with the Blade of Mercy to spare the prophetess the agony of a long drawn out death by the burning?”

   That explanation only led to more question for Owein. Being raised by the Dalish, his knowledge of the Andrastian region he learned during his time at the circle was buried beneath the clan’s own beliefs. “Can you offer any more insights to the group? A weakness? A base of operations.”

   “Oh, they’re up to the south. Their compound, if you can even call it, is nestled perfectly between to large hills making it so there is only one path coming and going.” Picking up his large two-handed axe, Bull pushed to his feet from the log he dropped himself on. “What should interest you is the fact there seems to be some unrest within the group. Scouting around, we found a note left by a former member looking to make a Mercy’s Crest to confront the leader.”

   “Mercy’s Crest.” Owein took the note Bull pulled from the pouch at his hips. “Are you telling me that if I make this amulet it will stop them from attacking me on sight?”

   “For being misguided in many areas, the hold their honor to the highest degree,” Cassandra answered leaning over to read the note herself. “Are you seriously considering this?”

    Owein shrugged. “Better going in blades at the ready, doesn’t it _M’eduall.”_ Owein’s gaze snapped to hers an apology on his lips that he wisely held back since using the language caught Bull’s interest. He’d been very careful not to use the language that was swirling in his head making common a bit of a hassle when he wasn’t concentrating. This was his first slip up using it outside of his conversations with Cassandra. “So, Bull. Up for the task to help us get our men back.”

   Smiling, Bull rested his weapon on his broad shoulder. “Fighting is what I do, Boss! Krem! Pack up we’re leaving.”

   “Aww, Chief!” The man groaned. “We just cracked open the good stuff.

   “Seal it and have the men take it back to Haven,” Bull instructed. “I’m going to stay with the Herald of Andraste for now.”

   Owein groaned. “Please don’t call me that.” He looked back to the two archers. “Varric, I want you to stay with the Chargers. Make sure they get back to Haven and settled in.”

   The storyteller raised a brow. “Sure you can handle Sera on your own?”

   “Oy!” The elf protested by hitting the dwarf hard in the shoulder. “I have my uses and far better skilled with a bow than you are.”

   Varric turned to stand toe to toe with Sera. “Is that so?”

   “Yea! What it to yea?” Sera demanded.

   “Varric,” Owein sighed breaking up the two before the argument could deepen. “You two can decide who is better after we get back. Just go. We should be only a few days behind you.”

   “You got it, Greenie,” Varric reluctantly agreed.

   Cassandra pinned the dwarf with a hard look. “Keep your head down and stay out of trouble, if that’s even possible for you, Varric.”

   The dwarf gave the Seeker a lopsided grin. “How you wound me, Seeker.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o

   “Someone’s come with a challenge?” A man outside the gate of the Blade of Hessarian’s compound. “Open the gates and tell everyone to stand down.”

   After fiddling with the amulet hanging around his neck, Owein looked over to Cassandra. “So far so good.”

    “Let’s get out men and pray we can walk away from this with all our limbs attached,” Cassandra muttered following closely behind him while Sera and Bull took post a bit farther away from the Leader who was already standing in front of his makeshift throne looking pissed. Her sword hand twitched but pushed forward seeing how all those nearby stopped what they were doing to look on in interest instead of readying themselves for an attack. If they were to attack, they would be royally screwed.

   The man with a burly blonde beard and an axe at the ready glared down at the pair. “So you would challenge the Blades of Hessarian?” His gaze flickered between the warrior and the mage. “Or did you expect me to stand down because you’re the famed Herald of Andraste?”

    “I’m here to represent the Inquisition.” Taking a deep breath, Owein stood straighter, eyes blazing as his magic already began to churn inside him. Like Cassandra, he’d taken an assessment of everyone within the compound. If the letter was right, only the leader and possibly his second would attack while the others would abide by the honor of the duel and wait for the dust to settle. This would be far more close quarters combat than anything he faced in the Hinterlands. Thankfully, he didn’t sense any Templars nearby. “You killed soldiers of the Inquisition.” He had at least three if not four inches on the leader and used that to his advantage to crowd him even if the man outmuscled him. “We cannot let this stand.”

    The man sneered. “You want justice? Come claim it.”

   Well, damn. So much for resolving this with any measure of peace. Yanking this staff from his back, Owein instantly casted a barrier over him and Cassandra as the man let out a battle cry and started to charge. Someone shouted nearby and he heard to snarls of two if not three Mabaris biting at the bits to defend their master. Two more men, thankfully no more, flanked the leader. “Bull, Sera,” Owein called back twirling his staff in his hand before taking his stance. “Take care of the hounds.”

    Cassandra surged forward, crossing blades with the leader, twisting and thrusting her shield into the oncoming elite, leaving both men momentarily stunned. Owein quickly casted a static cage to trap the third before fade stepping around Cassandra to flank their opponents. He took a fraction of a moment to admire the lethalness of Cassandra’s swordsmanship before another spell swirling in the palm of his hands. He threw a fire mine between their battle and the Mabaris the other two in his party were working on dispatching as an extra barrier in case the hounds decided to change their course.

   Hearing his ice mine being tripped, Owein flipped her weapon to wield the blade at the end, lodging it deep within his enemy’s throat. He sent a ripple of lightning through this staff for good measure and the man fell to the ground lifeless and twitching from the electricity still flowing through its body. Owein found himself back to back with the Seeker, each now taking on their own opponent while trying strength from one another. The moved together, Owein throwing spell after spell while Cassandra used her expert skill with a blade to keep the men at bay. It was far easier fighting when he didn’t have to fear that he would be cut off from his magic which is why he prided himself on using his staff more than to channel his spells.

   Owein gathered himself for a moment, pressed two fingers to his temple before casting a mind blast, effectively knocking the two men to the ground. Pushing off from Cassandra, Owein twirled his staff, coming down hard into the leader’s skull as he hit him with chaotic focus destroying what remained of the barrier he casted at the beginning of the battle. Not like they needed it anymore as he heard Cassandra’s blade sing, cutting through the air and into the Elite’s throat, ending the skirmish.

    Eyes wild, Cassandra swept her gaze along the remaining members of the group, readying herself for another wave.

   “It’s done!” Owein’s voice boomed over the compound. “Stand down!”

    “so long as the rest agree to play nice, right?” Sera remarked keeping an arrow notched in her bow.

    A man approached Owein unarmed and hands out in surrender. “Your Worship. The Blades of Hessarian are at your service. If you want eyes on the coast, here we are.”

   Owein kept a firm grip on his staff. “Just like that?”

   “We are loyal to those who show competence,” The man replied.

   Even Cassandra was hesitant to accept their change of allegiance. Adrenaline was still pumping through her veins leaving her on edge and expecting things to shift without warning. “So, there is no ill will over what just happened your former leader?”

   He casted his glance to the dead man at the mage’s feet. “The man was a bastard. You’re not the first to stand up to him. Just the first to win, and we’re happy for that. Besides, I rather swear my life to the Herald of Andraste.”

   “I’m not… I’m not…” Owein had to calm his racing heart to collect his thoughts. It would do them no good trying to deny the title because he had a feeling if he did, they would have a bigger battle on their hands. “If that is what you wish. Know that you do not serve me, but the Inquisition.”

    “Yes, your Worship.”

   Maker, he hated that title more than Herald of Andraste. Owein stepped over the charred body, glancing to assure himself that Cassandra was okay before addressing their newest agent. “If you have anything to report you give it to the forward camp or send straight to Haven, understood.”

   “Yes, sir.”

    Bull approached Owein. “Not bad for a circle mage, Boss.”

    “I have to admit that was quite a rush.” Owein wasn’t accustomed to using his magic as constantly as he had been since falling out of the fade. After the battle on the beach and this scuffle, he needed a moment to catch his breath. “Let’s regroup before we start looking for signs of the Wardens, shall we?”

   “He’s right you know,” Cassandra spoke once the other members of their party walked away. “You’re a skilled fighter. I don’t think I’ve told you that yet.”

    He sent her a smile. “Thanks for having my back, my lady.”

   She found herself returning it with one of her own. “It’s been quite some time since I found such ease fighting with another at my side.”

   “When we return to Haven, we should spar more to help keep it that way.”

   “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

   Owein’s face lit up. Even if he knew he would get his ass handed to him facing her in the battle ring, he was delighted to have found another reason to spend time with Cassandra without stirring up too much gossip.


	8. Unannounced Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I"m not happy with the end, I had something in my head but just couldn't get it out into the form of words. Yeah, sorry. Hopefully, you will enjoy it anyways

    _Well,_ that was a bust. Not only did Fiona have no recollection on issuing her invitation back at Val Royeaux, but the Redcliff now seemed to be under the firm control of a Tevinter Magister. Something about the situation made Owein’s skill crawl. Walking away from the [Gull and Lantern](https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Gull_and_Lantern), he found himself drawn to the massive stone statue of a griffin in the middle of town while the whispers of the citizen floated all around him. If his mind wasn’t preoccupied with questions of how Arl Teagan would simply allow Tevinter to come over and displace him, he would be in awe of the fine craftsmanship.

   Though seen as a mostly useless skill among his clan, Owein discovered a passion for wood carving during his time at the Ostwick Circle. He was quite a good woodworker, using his skill in practical uses within his clan by making chests, furniture, arrows and things with use. He still preferred the artistic freedom of making small figurines and such. The collection he made while at the tower was lost the moment they tossed him into a ditch. And living on the land, constantly moving, never gave Owein the opportunity to build it back up. The Keeper drilled it into his head from early on, such trinkets were a waste of space when a person’s entire life needed to fit into a simple pack.

    “It’s for the Hero of Ferelden and King Alistair. Well, former King.”

   Blackwall’s voice knocked Owein put of his stupor. They’d only met a handful of hours ago and had yet to form an opinion of the man. Leliana was adamant, before they left for the Storm Coast, he could help figure out the sudden disappearance of his brethren. “King Alistair, who delivered the final blow, was from Redcliff was he not?”

   “Grew up in these very streets until sent to the Chantry by Arl Eamon to become a Templar. He stepped down as Arl after his son became possessed by a desire demon.” Blackwall took in the grand statue. “Alistair never took his vows before he was recruited into the Wardens.”

   Owen’s brow furrowed. “Wondered what he would think about the Arl of his home stepping aside so easily and allowing Tevinter mages to rule, given his aversion to blood mage after free Connor and Eamon from the demon’s clutches.” Even in the Dalish knew about the incident that happened in Redcliff during the Blight that turned Eamon sick and brought the dead back to death in order to attack the city.

   “I admit, I’m quite puzzled by their sudden appearance myself. I’m sure I would’ve heard of them coming. I knew the rebel mages were desperate, but…” Trailing off, Blackwall winced at his own words. “Meant no disrespect, Herald.”

   “Please don’t call me that,” Owein corrected. “And believe it or not, Blackwall. Not all mages think the same.”

   “Are you saying you don’t agree with annulling the circles?”

   “What people tend to forget is that mages are people too. They shouldn’t be punished for something they were born with. Threatened to have their magic, emotions, and dreams stripped away on a whim of an order that was already indifferent about them.” Owein thought of Clemence, the tranquil he ran into after his talk with Alexius at the Gull and Lantern, and shuddered. Losing his magi would be tragic, but his emotions, the ability to laugh and love, would be a fate worse than death. But Alexius displacement of Clemence and those like him were what lead Owein to ask the tranquil to work for the Inquisition as it seemed the man, despite his current state, wanted to be of use.

   “Owein.”

   He turned to see Cassandra approaching, a hard line of concern creasing her brow. “Did you manage to get another word in with Fiona?”

   “Not any productive ones” Cassandra answered on a heavy sigh. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Owein, she studied the large statue herself. “She’s quite beside herself with Alexius’s sudden change of their agreement and now are conscripting all rebel mages into Tevinter military services.”

   Owein couldn’t quite manage to hold back his noise of disgust. “she’s a fool to think even for a second that the Magister came here with their best interest at heart. She wanted, fought tirelessly, to free mages from the Templar hold.” Setting his jaw, he seethed through his anger. “All she’s done is trade one leash for another.”

   Disregarding herself imposed rule to remain professional when it came to Owein and the fact Blackwall was nearby, Cassandra slid her hand into his, giving him what little comfort, she could. “Should we head back to Haven? Talk with the others about possibly seeking an audience with the Templars?”

   Owein looked down at her. “Do you believe that is the best course of action.”

   “My beliefs and opinion are irrelevant.”

   He squeezed her hand. “Not to me, you know that.”

   Under his intense gaze, Cassandra felt her cheeks start to burn. Blackwall, thankfully, busied himself by reading the plaque attached to the griffin statue. “I’m not sure how much trust I can put in Fiona with the choices she made.”

   “But?”

   “But,” Cassandra continued. “I would like to get to the bottom of what’s going on here so we can makes a sound decision on what to do.”

   “It’s eating at you that she doesn’t remember talking to you, doesn’t it?”

   “I can see slight recognition on her face, but she was genuinely confused.” Cassandra found herself leaning into Owein, head resting on his shoulder, a rather easy task thanks to their height difference. After weeks of travel, she was far too tired to fight the pull to be near him. Regardless of her words, she spoke in Val Royeaux, she was human. She had needs and wants like every other woman in Thedas. “Something deeper, more sinister, is going on here. We can’t leave until we get some answers.”

   Because he needed to contact as much as her Owein, brushed a kiss over her creased brow. He cherished her soft sigh. It was important for her to know and understand that he was trying to make a sound decision and not rush into simply because he wanted the wait to be with her over. Owein wanted the best for the Inquisition. Best for the people they were trying to help.

   “The note Felix slipped me says some answers will be waiting for us at the chantry,” Owein stated.

   “Or it’s a trap,” Blackwall countered. “Don’t have much trust when it comes to these Tevinters.”

   “Guess we should go spring the trap,” Owein quipped with a charming smile. “Bull and Sera are tracking down a lead about those crystals and skulls we keep finding.”

   A few feet from the Chantry, Cassandra watched Owein freeze and hissed down at his left hand. A green light sparked from his palm causing his face to contort in pain. She was quick to mask her concern. “Owein, what is it?”

   “I don’t know.” Clenching his fist, Owein’s gaze shifted to the grand iron doors. The anchor was acting as if a rift was nearby though it fell strange. Painful in a way. Spurred now by curiosity, he pushed opened the doors.

   “Maker’s breath!” Blackwall explained as a bolt of green lightning hit the floor inches from his boots.

   Freeing the staff from his back, Owein stood there, if only for a moment, dumbfounded by the bright ball of green suspended near the ceiling of the Chantry. “How did a Blighted rift get in here? There is no way this could’ve gone unnoticed for too long.” Even at the Inn, Owein felt no pull.

   “Observant and handsome,” A mage spoke on the opposite side of the room, twirling his staff while blasting an approaching demon with a stone fist spell. “Felix did say you have your wits about you. Now, would you three be so kind to pitch in? I only have so much mana.”

   While the two warriors flanked the rift, Owein charged directly at it. He hit a patch of light and was immediately thrown off balance, his fire spell looping around almost as if it an invisible force knocking it way off course.  Getting back onto his feet proved to be a struggle. While his mind was racing, trying to plan the battle in his head, moving his body was like trying to move through water.

   Fade stepping, Owein became free of the heavyweight and able to move without restriction. Looking around, he noted that Cassandra seemed to be moving with unholy sped. Blackwall, on the other hand, seemed sluggish.

   “Get your head out of your ass!” The unknown mage cried out from across the room. “And seal the damn thing.”

   Gritting through the pain of the anchor’s magic clashing with his own, the Herald lifted his hand, a green tendril shooting out of his palm and lassoing around the ebbing rift. Closing it took far to longer than what Owein deemed normal and left him completely drained of energy and mana. Struggling to remain conscious, he fell to his knees, gasping for breath, and swearing in both common and ancient.

   “Owein.” Cassandra reached him first. Dropping her sword and shield, she reached out to steady the Herald.

   “I feel like I’m going to be sick,” Owein muttered squeezing his eyes shut to block out the spinning room.

   “Side effect of time magic, I’m afraid. How do you do that?” The unknown man asked paying no mind to Owein’s current state as he took the man’s hand to examine it himself. “You don’t have a clue, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and the rift closes! Remarkable!”

   Relying on Cassandra to keep him upright, Owein yanked his hand free. “Who the fuck are you?”

   “And did you say something about time magic?” Blackwall asked in disbelief.

   “Of course, introductions, how foolish of me. Dorian House of Pavus, most recently of Mirathous,” Smiling, Dorian bowed. “How do you do?”

   “Another Tevinter,” Cassandra hissed not knowing if Owein was well versed in that part of the world. “Watch yourself.”

   The Tevinter mage smiled. “I’m sure you’re quite weary after dealing with my fellow countrymen all day. Especially given the circumstances that they seemed to have shown up overnight. I mean, they weren’t here when you visited the Crossroads weeks ago.”

   Hand itching towards Cassandra’s sword, Owein kept his gaze trained on Dorian. “I think you need to tell me what’s going on and where Felix is.”

   “I’m right here, Herald.” The man in question slipped between the two large iron doors of the Chantry. “Stand down. I have nothing to give but my word when I say Dorian is no threat to you. In fact, he’s the solution to the mess my father created.”

   “Your word is good enough.” Owein prided himself on honor. Strong enough to stand, Owein pushed to his feet. “I think you two should start talking and don’t skip out on the part of time magic.”

   In the end, Owein wished they had. Head swimming with information, he walked the outskirts of the Crossroads. Everyone was in agreeance, since they wouldn’t make it back to Skyhold by nightfall, that staying away from the Tevinter filled down was for the best. Especially if what Dorian and Felix told them were true. Alexius was using highly dangerous and an unstable form of magic to manipulate time for a dangerous purpose. Felix mentioned his father was working with someone. More than the Venatori. Now, the Inquisition needed to figure out who it was, meaning that seeking out the mages effectively closed off any hopes of speaking to the Templars.

   Cullen wasn’t going to be happy.

   “Hey, Boss,” Bull stated in greeting before stepping out of the shadows. “Heard you guys had a day.”

   “You can say that again.” Owein rubbed his tired face. “How about you? Did you and Sera uncover anything more about these crystals?”

   Sighing, Bull shook his head. “And I wish I didn’t.”

   That made Owein’s stomach drop. “What did you find out?”

   “We found a house by the docks in Redcliff filled with skulls. It seems that the oculara, you know the thing you look through, were made by the Venatori from the skulls of tranquil.” Bull didn’t miss the way the Herald flinched before paling. “They’re looking for something. Apparently, the crystal opens something.”

   Owein worked past the sour taste in the back of his throat. The news was more than unnerving and that was a bit of an understatement. First to be made Tranquil only to be killed because the Tevinter saw them as useless in that form. A Tranquil may not have their magic nor emotions, but they could be used for other purposes. They were people and didn’t deserve such a horrid fate. “When we return to Haven, we will set out to research exactly what it opens.”

   “I’m sorry, Boss. I know this isn’t easy info to digest.”

   “It’s not, but nothing I’ve learned today is,” Owein muttered to himself. “Go get some sleep Bull. There is no need for a watch staying in the village.”

   The Qunari hesitated a moment before complying.

   Sensing a familiar gaze on him, Owein turned in the opposite direction that Bull went off too and smiled softly. “You should be sleeping.”

   “A bit hard when your bunkmate snores like a dragon,” Cassandra answered. “What are you doing up?”

   “Trying to disgust everything that happened to me and now the news that Bull gave me about the Crystals.” Owein shared the information with the Seeker and a deep frown formed on her face. “Cass?”

   “I knew… I mean I noticed the disappearance of the tranquil.” Anger hardened her voice as guilt settled came sweeping in. “I knew and I didn’t… I should’ve looked harder.”

   “You couldn’t have known.”

   “Hindsight, I guess.” Her gaze flicked to his. “Are you okay?”

   “I was about to take a walk to clear my head.” He found it easier to think in his wolf form.

   “Go for an actual walk or run around to howl at the moon?”

   “I don’t howl at the moon,” Owein quickly corrected making her smile. “I need to think and recover, both easier in my other form. The magic in the Chantry, mixing with closing the rift, took a lot out of me.”

   “Does it hurt?” Cassandra wondered. “When you transform?”

   “Come with me.”

   Cassandra was surprised by the invitation. She’d been curious about his other form since it’s discovery that fateful night in Haven. All Cassandra remembered was a flash of copper eyes and a blur of motion before being caught by a human Owein. Even when he slipped away during their time at the Storm Coast, Cassandra never tried to sate her curiosity knowing the absences of both of them from camp would arouse suspicion. And even more rumors that were going around Haven like wildfire.

   “Are you sure it’s safe to eh, be walking around?” Cassandra asked.

   “Everyone is out for the count, including the hunters. Though I’ve had many years of practice in effectively evading them.” Offering his arm, Owein smiled when she took it because there was no hesitation. She trusted him completely. He hoped that he never did anything to break that.

   They didn’t go far in the off chance something happened that needed their immediate attention. Releasing the Seeker, Owein stepped away. “Might want to stand back a bit. Don’t want to scare you.”

   With as many Winters as she had under her belt, Cassandra she could never be shocked speechless again. After all, she’d ridden a dragon, killed a small horde of them with Galyan’s help, seen demons fall from the sky and a veil to the fade being opened. But watching Owein Trevelyan, a seemingly normal looking man, flash into the form of an oversized world in the time it took to breath left her stammering.

   Massive head bowed in submission, Owein cautiously approached the Seeker. Talking about it was one thing, but seeing it was something else entirely.

   “Andraste’s Mercy.” Cassandra ran her fingers through his thick fur, made up with the same rays of copper and brown as his hair was in human form. He was huge, easily the size of a horse and look majestic and very dangerous. Not only could Cassandra sense Owein’s magic, though suppressed in this form, she could also see it vibrating in his glowing copper eyes. “You’re huge!”

   Owein smirked at her chose of words.”

   “Oh, shut up.” Blushing, she playfully pushed at his large snout. “You might succeed in blending in more if you matched the size of a normal wolf.”

   _That’s a sure fine way to be poached by a hunter, my lady_

    Hearing his voice in her head stunned Cassandra.

   Owein seemed to be taken aback himself. _You can hear me?_

Cassandra nodded.

   _Interesting._

“Am I not supposed to?”

   Owein began to circle the Seeker. _You’re the first one outside of my clan._

   “Well, not that we know, you can help ease my worry when you wander off from camp. I wonder over what distance I can still hear you.”

   _You worry too much, my lady. I’ve taken on my fair share of things like bears._

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t make me feel any better, Owein.”

   Playfully, he gently bumped his snout against her cheek. Her laughter was pure music. _C’mon._

   “What?”

   Owein laid down next to her. _Climb on up._

   “Y-you want me to ride you?”

   A low growl of pleasure rumbled in the back of Owein’s throat as his mind became overrun of images of her naked, perched above him, and riding him mercilessly towards oblivion. As hard as it was, he shook his head clear. _Afraid of the challenge, Seeker?_

Her spine stiffened. “How exactly?”

   _Simply grab some fur and hop on. Carefully._ He added before she could move.

   Not quite unable to mask her smile, Cassandra climbed onto the wolf’s back. She let out a small squeal when he stood on all fours. “All right, bow.” Cassandra glanced down at him, finding a glint in his copper eyes. “Do your worst.”

   _You may live to regret those words, my lady._

“I’ve never backed down from a challenge. Not going to start now.”

    Riding was something Cassandra was no stranger too. She’d been born in a carriage after all. Her first memory was of riding with her father outside their family home before their life took a drastic turn for the worst. But riding atop Owein in his wolf form was nothing like a horse nor a dragon. Though, Cassandra wasn’t sure her stunt with the dragons classified as riding as it was more hanging on for dear life hoping that she didn’t plummet to her death. With Owein, it was far more agile than any horse she’d ever ridden. He was able to dart and leap almost effortlessly over the obstacles in their way. The speed in which he moved left her breathes and clenching his fur tighter. Her carefree laughter spurred him on as they bounded through the dimly lit woods.

   Owein swore, at that moment where Cassandra tilted her head back and let the cool night air rush over her face, that he would do whatever it took to make her laugh more. Perhaps for the first time, he was helping Cassandra set aside her duty, grief, and authority and simply enjoy the moment.

 

  


	9. Desolate Future

   “Why are you standing out here?”

   Owein jumped at the sound of Varric’s voice. Cursing under his breath, he dragged a hand through his hair. They’d returned to Haven three days ago and still hadn’t officially talked to Cullen and the others about his choice about pursuing the mages. Regardless of their growing friendship, he knew that Cullen wasn’t going to take this news all too well. He tried to distract himself with sparring with Cassandra and Bull, putting on a show with his magic that gathered quite the crowd, helping ease people’s mistrust towards him being a mage. Beating Bull took more of an effort than he was used in a practice setting. Owein finally gained the upper hand when he melted a patch of ice only to quickly refreeze it trapping the Quanri’s large foot in ice.

    Taking on Cassandra, as always, was a challenge and nearly drained him completely of mana. Maybe because they were battling constantly side by side these days, it was easier for her to anticipate his moves or when he switched the manner of spells he was going to use. No amount of fade stepping or skill wielding his staff for more than controlling his magic could beat the many years Cassandra had spent wielding a sword. Owein had been lucky to land a few serious blows before ending flat on his back with her standing over him with a smile of triumph and perhaps something else as he yielded.

    “Hey, Greenie!” Varric nudged the mage. “You’ve been staring at the door for half an hour now. Wasn’t a war council summoned?”

   Owein shook his head free of any other thoughts then what awaited him inside the room. “There was.”

   “Aren’t you supposed to be in there?”

   “I am.”

   Varric arched a brow. “Shouldn’t you go inside then.”

   “I should.”

   “Yet, here you are.”

   “It’s just not going to be exactly pleasant,” Owein explained.

   Varric chuckled. “I know Curly may be a bit upset, he’s not going to jump over the table and start beating the shit out of you or anything.”

   Owein couldn’t help but rub the back of his neck. A small habit of discomfort he seemed to have picked up from the Commander. “Are you sure of that?”

   “I’m sure. I’d only ever seen him get truly angry with only one person and well she deserved in a way, plus there was some hidden angst…” Realizing how close he was becoming to babbling, Varric trailed off.

   “And who would that be?”

   “No one,” Varric quickly assured. “Now get in there.”

   Taking a calming breath, Owein entered the War Room where Cullen and Cassandra were already debating on the matter of trying to infiltrate Redcliff Castle and whether it was worth the trouble at all as they still had a chance to meet with the Templars. The moment they noticed his presence, all attention turned on him.

   “Alexius’s letter was asking only for the Herald of Andraste,” Josephine started. “It’s an obvious trap.”

   Owein tried to defuse the tension in the air with a bit of humor. “Wasn’t that kind of him? What does Alexius say about me?” He stopped in front of the War table. “Was he dazzled by my cheery disposition? My good looks?”

    Leliana smiled softly. “Alexius was so complimentary that we are certain he wants to kill you.”

   “Well,” Owein drawled with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “He’s not exactly the first one and I’m certain he won’t be the last.”

    Cullen cut the mage off, his voice slightly agitated. “It still stands to not that Redcliff Caste is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults. If you go in there you’ll die.” He stopped for a moment obvious displeased with the notion. “And then we will lose the only means we have of closing these rifts. It’s too risky.”

   Not wanting to dismiss the Commander’s concern, Owein folded his arms across his chest. “And after my run in with the Templars at Val Royeaux, you think me waltzing into Therinfal Redoubt is any safer for me?”

   Cullen frowned.

   “If we don’t even try, we leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep,” Cassandra pointed out. “We can’t turn a blind eye to the alarming amount of Tevinters talking over the place.”

   “Sadly, Arl Teagan rode straight for Denerim to petition the crown for help.” Josephine carefully set her clipboard aside. “I’ll doubt he’ll be much help.”

   Owein rubbed his furrowed brow as the rest of the advisors bickered back and forth about the current state of Redcliff. “I’m not really hearing any solutions to fixing this problem.”

   The corner of Leliana’s mouth curved. “Would a secret passage into the Castle satisfy you, Herald.”

   “A secret passage you say?” Owein asked intrigued.

   “It’s an escape tunnel built for the family to escape. I discovered it along with the Hero of Ferelden when we needed to infiltrate the Castle after it had been sealed off from its people.” Leliana could see the wheels turning in Cullen’s head. “It’s to narrow for our army, but not our agents.”

   Cullen shook his head in protest. “It’s too risky. Our agents will be easily discovered.”

   The Spymaster looked to the Herald now. “Not if we had a distraction.”

   “Me?” Owein asked.

   “Put the Magister’s attention on Trevelyan while taking the focus off our agents.” Cullen rubbed his chin. “That could work.”

   The door to the War Room swung open before Dorian swaggered inside. “Fortunately, you’ll have help.”

   Owein raised a brow. “Have you been hiding out in Haven all this time?”

   Dorian grinned. “Had to since it took you lot three days to come to any time of conclusion on what to do.”

   “So,” Owein encouraged. “What do you have to offer?”

   “Your spies will never get past Alexius magic without my help so if you’re going after him, I’m coming along,” Dorian declared in such a way that left very little room for anyone to argue. “So how about it, Trevelyan? Feel like playing the bait.”

   “The choice is yours,” Cullen spoke watching the Tevinter mage closely. “We still have an opening with the Templars. The moment we commit to this plan, we will lose that window.”

   “I know,” Owein sighed. “I know you think that is the best choice, but something sinister is going on in Redcliff. Like Cassandra pointed out, we can’t leave a foreign power so close. I’m not trying to ignore what may be going on with the Templars, but we have a way in and a means to help.”

   “While you’re uncovering the mystery of our Tevinter friends, I’ll send some of my men to investigate Therinfal Redoubt.” Recalling Owein’s run in with the Lord Seeker had Cullen frowning. “I can’t imagine that the Lord Seeker has swayed every single Templar to abandoned their sense of duty to do the right thing and protect the people of Thedas.”

   “I hope the same, Commander,” Owein stated. “Regardless of how things go with Alexius, Thedas needs help.”

0o0o0o0o0o0oo

    This was not how Owein imagined the day going. Somehow Alexius sent him and Dorian into the future where there were hostile mages around every corner, demons by the dozen, and Red Lyrium growing out of the ground and infecting everyone. Even Fiona who had been trapped by some that had started growing out of her body. Owein’s hope for his companions being spared was dashed the moment he came upon Varric locked up in a cell not far from Fiona heavily infected as well.

   Owein worked his lock picks into the cell door. “Where are the others?” He demanded rushing into the help Varric stand. “Where is Cassandra.”

   The dwarf leaned against the mage to catch his breath. “Some of them are alive. Most succumbed to the Red Lyrium, thankfully dying instead of losing their minds. Curly is being held by Samson, seems the bastard has a personal vendetta against our Commander. I heard them dragging Leliana out of a cell a little bit ago.” Struggling to quiet the roar in his head. A nice little gift from all the Red Lyrium forced into his system. “Bull and Blackwall are in the cell not far from here.”

   Owein forced himself to hold onto his wits, calmly asking, “And Cassandra?”

   “Alive.”

   A breath of relief rushed out of his lungs. “Then where is she?”

   Varric grimaced. “Help me find some armor. I’ll explain on the way.”

   By the time the dwarf finished, they had found Bull, Blackwall, and suitable gear while Owein’s emotions raged violently inside him. The grip on his staff turned knuckle white. It was a surprise that the wood didn’t crack from the sheer force. His voice cracked, betraying his seemingly outward calm demeanor. Captured? Married? How could this all have happened?

   “Against her will?” He snarled.

   Varric stopped, turning his sympathetic gaze to the Herald. “She fought tooth and nail.” 

   That hardly brought any comfort.

   “The King of Nevarra realized that the quickest way to ensure his country prospered under the Elder One’s Rule was to bend to Alexius. Markus, sent troops into Ferelden using his magic leaving no time to mount a defense. He knew that Inquisition was a threat regardless of our small numbers and captured Cassandra while she was trying to help evacuate the Crossroads.” Varric wished that his words didn’t bring the Herald the pain he was seeing mounting on the mage’s face. “He offered her a spot on the throne if she gave up the Inquisition. Of course, our Seeker refused. Until he captured all of us and used it against her. She fought as much as she could, but in the end, she gave up her freedom to protect those of the Inquisition she could by agreeing to marry Prince Ferdinand.”

   “Doesn’t seem like Markus held up his end of the bargain,” Dorian stated.

    “No, he didn’t. She did her best to remain strong, to do what she could to make things right in a world going mad. But the Red Lyrium made her weak. Turns out, Seekers are immune to its corruption,” Varric softly explained. “Sadly, rather than losing her mind and free will, it’s painful and only slowing the death process. Or perhaps madness.”

   Flames engulfed Owein’s fists. All the dead torches lining the walls came roaring to life as his magic burst free from his shackle of control. Of course, Cassandra would try to do the right thing in the face of evil. Even giving herself up in every way possible if it meant sparing the lives of those she cared about. “Where is she?”

   “Usually bound to the throne in the hall or…” Blackwall trailed off once copper eyes fell onto him. A seasoned warrior himself, who faced many foes, and yet, still took a cautious step away from the Herald.

   “Or?” Owein demanded.

   “Chained to Prince Ferdinand’s bed,” Blackwall reluctantly finished. The warrior swore he saw real flames shining in Owein’s eyes. “His chambers are on the way to the main hall. There will be guards.”

   “There’ll be nothing left of them when I’m done.” Jaw set, Owein took point, spurred on by blood lust for those hurting his Seeker. They had to fix this. All the pain. Suffering. Injustice. All because of him.

   Maker! How could this all have happened simply because he was removed from time? Owein felt sick to his stomach.

   Sensing the Herald’s turmoil, Dorian laid a steady hand on Owein’s shoulder. “Remember, we find Alexius and the Amulet and we can reverse the clock. Make it so this future never happened.”

   Erasing the timeline wouldn’t scrub the images being seared into his mind. Forcing himself to take a calming breath, Owein took a moment to find his center, before moving further into the castle.

   Cassandra heard the loud commotion outside the bedchambers but was far too weak to put much thought into its source. Her head fell back onto the pillow, sending another silent plea to the Maker to finally end her suffering once and for all. As each hour ticked away, so did her faith in the world. In trying to fight back.

   What use was it when demons freely roamed the land, the Breach stretched as far as the eye could see, and people like Alexius and Ferdinand helped the Chosen One sow his seeds of destruction.

   Tears welling, Cassandra screwed her lids closed and began to cite the Chant of Light. The words, once soothing and filled with wisdom, only served to distract her from the thunder echoing in her mind from the Red Lyrium. Faith was for the foolish, wide-eyed, and innocent.

   “Cassandra.”

   The Seeker felt her heart jolt, feeling, even for a moment, happiness before the pain took over. Did the Maker wish to see her suffer more? Was the physical torture inflicted by Ferdinand not enough? Now, he saw it fit to play mind games by thinking of Owein? Swallowing a sob, Cassandra curled into a ball as much as her shackled hands would allow.

   “I’m sorry, my wolf,” She whispered wishing that she could see him one last time. “I failed you. I failed Thedas.”

   Finally, through the door, as the last guard fell, Owein stumbled inside. “Cassandra.” His gaze swept across the room, stopping when he came to the painful conclusion that the shaking heap in the middle of the bed was the woman he sought. He called to her once again to no avail. She kept on quoting her scripture.

   Was she too far gone? He glanced make to make sure his companions were on guard before he approached the bed. Owein followed the links of the chain binding Cassandra to the headboard, finding nothing by raw, mangled flesh under the wrist restraints. “ _M’eudal (Darling)_.” Dropping his staff, Owein’s throat tightened. She was all skin and bones underneath the tattered shift she wore. “I’m here.”

   Something in his voice must’ve reached her as she stopped praying.

   He touched her shoulder, heart wrenching the moment she jerked then braced. A condition response after countless hours of abuse. “Cassandra.” Owein carefully sat on the edge of the bed. “Look at me, I beg you. Tell me you’re still in there.”

   “Ow-Owein?

  “Yes, Iarrthóir (Seeker).” He fought an onslaught of tears. She sounded fragile. Nothing like that tough as nails warrior that captivated him the moment they met in the shadows. “I’m right here.”

   Eyes fluttering open, Cassandra turned her head until she found familiar copper eyes. This time she let her tears fall after a year of holding them back. “I’m so sorry, Owein. I failed. I’m grateful Andraste hast at least allowed me to see you before the end.” Her voice was hollow and weak,

   “You didn’t fail.” Owein brushed his knuckles along her jaw. “I’m right here.”

   Recognition started to settle in. Cassandra moved, trying to reach for him, only to be painfully reminded she couldn’t by the metal cuffs digging further into her skin. “You’re here.” Seeking his warmth, she leaned heavily into his touch. “You’re real.”

   Owein flashed her a smile. “In the flesh.”

   “The end must be truly upon us if the dead have returned.”

   “Dead?” Owein would’ve laughed under other circumstances. “You know that it will take more than a simple magic trick to take me out.”

   “I was there,” She argued. “I saw the magister obliterate you with one gesture.”

   Snatching the keys on the table, Owein carefully released her from her restraints. “I’m not dead.”

   “But.”

   He cupped her gaunt cheek causing her to trail off in wonder. Owein longed to gather her close but feared doing so would cause her pain. “No tricks or illusion.” He skimmed the thumb over the corner of her mouth. “This is real.”

   “How?” Was the only question Cassandra could muster.

   “Alexius didn’t obliterate me, though I’m sure that was his intention.” Owein always thought of himself to be strong. To be able to face the most dangerous of enemies. Endure the worst type of torture in existence. Those all seemed easy enough to survive. What he wasn’t able to bear was to see Cassandra, his fierce Seeker, cry. Desperately needing to, Owein pressed his brow to her. “Instead, his spell propelled Dorian and me to the future.”

   “Future?” Finding the strength, Cassandra curled one hand in the front of his ropes, the other falling weakly to the nape of his neck. “How?”

   “It’s hard to explain. I don’t fully understand what happened. I do know a full year has passed.”

   “Andraste’s mercy, you’re here! Alive!” Cassandra crawled into his lap, curling herself around him. The familiar traces of his earthly scent mixed with cedar brought her comfort and enough to stoke the embers of hope for the first time since lost him. “Every day, I prayed for the Maker’s forgiveness. To give me a chance to make things right. I pleaded to see you one more time in order to tell you the things I convinced myself to keep locked away for the sake of the mission.”

   Stroking her matted hair, Owein rocked her in his arms. “We can fix this,” He whispered. “To make it so none of this ever happened.”

   After listening to his plan, she eased back, tilting her head upward. “Then you must hurry. Alexius will be in the throne room. Make him pay. Make things how they should be.”

   “We will. I-.”

   “I’m too weak, Owein. I’ll only slow you down.”

   The icy shards of dread crept over him. “I won’t leave you behind. I can’t… Can’t…” The words tangled in his throat leaving him incapable of speaking what was in his heart.

   “You must.”  

   “Cass, please…”

   She splayed her fingers against his chest, touch firm as she held his distraught gaze. “You must, my wolf.” Cassandra’s voice trembled ever so slightly. There were too many things she wanted to say. For an entire year, Cassandra would retreat into her mind, to the time before everything went to shit. To a time where he was alive and it was there, she would think of everything she should’ve said to him instead of letting duty dictate her actions by telling herself that it could wait until the Breach was closed. Cassandra found herself wrestling with those words, wondering if she should speak them at all. If he did turn the tides of time, they would be spoken by a woman that didn’t exist.

   Instead of pouring her heart out, Cassandra spoke two words. “My heart.”

   Tears fell as Owein held her close. “I can’t… I can heal you. I can…”

   “It’s far too late for me.” Even now, Cassandra felt the edges of oblivion she prayed relentlessly start to creep over her. Something about it was oddly calming. “Save your magic for your fight.”

   He felt her grow weaker in his arms. Saw her eyes start to haze over. “I will fix this,” Owein feverishly vowed. Since she lacked the strength, he lowered his head until their mouths tangled together. The kiss was shot and bittersweet as it not only their first but also their last. “I’ll make this right.”

   “I know you will.” A faint smile tugged at her lips, hand dropping away as they grew heavy. “Thank you, Owein. For giving me peace before I meet the Maker.”

   Owein laid her carefully against the pillows. Everything would be okay, his mind tried to reason through the onslaught of grief. They would turn back time and save her and the countless others from their horrific end. Chocking on his sobs, Owein refused to let a single doubt in. This wasn’t the end of their story. There was still more to be written. To be experienced. “ _Is breá liom tú_.”

   She may not have known the words, but sensed their meaning as a smile bloomed across her face for a moment before death claimed her.

   Dorian lingered near the foot of the bed, heart heavy as the Herald let out a howl of anguish. He had sensed a connection between the warrior and mage the second he met the pair. He didn’t know just how deeply it ran. “We must hurry, Owein.”

   Owein struggled to hold himself together.

   “We find Alexius, the amulet, and rewrite time. To save all those lost.” Dorian dropped his voice. “To save her.”

   “We can’t fail.” Sliding to his feet, Owein closed her lids and kissed her brow. “I will not fail you, Cassandra. With the Maker and any other god in existence, I will save you.”

   Dorian picked up the forgotten staff and held it out. “Come, my friend. Let us fix this.”

   Though his hands violently shook, Owein took the weapon. “We will not fail.” He glanced one last time at the lifeless Seeker. “I won’t lose her. I can’t…”

   Dorian squeezed Owein’s shoulder. “You won’t.”

   “Markus dies. Alexius dies, Dorian,” Owein decreed. “I don’t care who he was, but he dies. We can’t risk the possibility of this future.”

   A sad sigh escaped the Tevinter mage. “As much as it pains me as I cared for him as one might a father, you’re right. This type of magic needs to die with him.”

   “Now that we are on the same page.” Owein stood straighter, face hard as stone. “It’s off to see the fucking wizard.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o  

   “Conscription?” Fiona sputtered in disbelief. “You would betray your own kind?”

  Flames flickering across his fingertips, Owein marched up to the Former Grand Enchantress. “Betrayal? You want to talk about betrayal?” It was taking every ounce of his will power not to blast the woman. “You’re the one who sold out ‘our kind’ to the Tevinters. You invited them here, displaced people from their homes!”

   Flinching, Fiona took a cautious step back.

   “You were so desperate for freedom you turned a blind eye to the evil you got in bed with. Then you barely bat an eye when he-.” Owein pointed to the dead Magister in the middle of the hall. “Strips you off the freedom you sought in the first place.”

   “Herald, you must understand-.”

   Roaring in grief over the images of the desolate future, of a lifeless Cassandra, and the horrors she almost let happen, Owein lost control and shot a bolt of lightning into the stonewall a few feet from Fiona. “For fuck sake’s, your actions killed millions! It destroyed the world!”

   Fiona gaze shot back and forth between the two haggard looking mages. Faces were battle tarnished and eyes full of anguish from witnessing something extremely horrible. “What are you talking about? Alexius has harmed no one while in Ferelden.”

   “What about the tranquils you fought for?” Owein demanded. “He tossed them aside like trash.”

   Fiona shook her head. “You’re still not making sense.”

   Owein staggered under the weight of everything he witnessed. That he endured. “I’m talking about time magic and don’t tell me it doesn’t make sense.” He looked to the stone face Anora. “It explains exactly how such a large group of Tevinters showed up in Redcliff without the Crown being altered. Alexius was using this magic for his own benefit, not for all mages. He sought to kill me or possibly displace me from times itself. Only Dorian’s interference is the reason we are standing here.”

   “What did you see?” The Queen of Ferelden could see the ghosts of battle herself in his copper eyes. “Where did he send you?”

   “A year from now and let me tell you something.” Owein cornered Fiona once again. “He used you. All of you, for your magic. Where the Inquisition wants to use it to seal the Breach, he used it to rip open the entire fucking sky! Demons, Red Lyrium, death! It was everywhere you looked! You allowed that to happen!”

    “Trevelyan,” Dorian tried to disengage from the sheer hostility floating about the room.

   Owein whipped his head around. “You saw could’ve happened.” His voice shook slightly. “What could still happen if left unchecked.”

   Cassandra approached the Herald and placed a hand over his trembling arm. “Owein.”

   Hearing the Seeker’s voice, free from despair and pain, snapped Owein out of his anger infused haze. He set his jaw. “Be driven from your home, out of Ferelden entirely, or come and attempt to redeem yourself by helping the Inquisition. Your choice, Grand Enchantress.”

   The occupants of the room were left dumbfounded as Owein stormed out of the keep.

   Anora was the first to break the deafening silence. “What say you, Fiona? The Herald has offered you a gracious offer.”

   Fiona couldn’t quite meet the Seeker’s gaze. “We accept the terms of your off, Seeker. We will set out for Haven at once.”

   Sighing, Cassandra rubbed her furrowed brow. A deep headache was starting to form as she tried to understand exactly what Owein had been shouting about. “I should send a raven-.”

   “No,” Dorian interrupted as Fiona sulked out of the room. “You need to go after him.”

   Cassandra glanced at the cracked stone, a result of Owein’s magic. She’d seen him use the full might of his magic, but every time, Owein always seemed to be a master of control over it. Even when they spared, honing their flow when they fought alongside one another on the battlefield, he kept his magic in check. Seeing Owein’s sheer emotional outburst was quite disturbing. Cassandra didn’t think Owein was capable of such rage.

   Dorian held the warrior’s gaze. “You’ve known him longer and therefore under him better.” He gently took her by the arm. “This, I can tell you. What happened, what we saw, may not be real anymore, but it is to him.”

   “What did you see?” Varric softly asked.

   “The agonizing death of those he thinks of as family.” Dorian lowered his voice, speaking only to Cassandra now. A blind man could see the feelings the Seeker and Herald harbored for one another. “You died in his arms.”

   “I’m right here,” Cassandra whispered.

   “Those images are in his head,” Dorian softly countered. “Go. We can handle the Queen and the other arrangements.”

   Duty made her hesitate before Cassandra realized taking care of Owein was what she was meant to do. “Try not to undo everything we just did.”

  “I’m sure we’ll manage.”

   Finding Owein wasn’t an easy task. He wasn’t anywhere near the Keep. Cassandra eventually found Owein hiding in the shadow cast between two dwellings near the docks. Since the opening was narrow, Cassandra relieved herself of her sword and shield before slipping into the shadows.

   “Owein.”

   Head stuck somewhere between reality and the horrible memories of the now diverted future, Owein covered his ears, blocking out the sound of her voice. He couldn’t bear to hear it. There was no forgetting the hollow look in her dark eyes as the last remnants of life left her. He failed. He failed all of them.

   “Owein, look at me,” Cassandra softly demanded, reaching out only to have him jerk violently away from her touch. The utter look of despair etched into the lines of his face made her very soul ache. She knelt down beside him, effectively trapping him since he backed himself into the corner of the alley. “Please.”

   “Stop,” Owein hissed. “Stop it, you foul demon! You will not trick me.”

   Her brow furrowed. Exactly what did he experience in that future Alexius sent him to? She remembered he spoke of the vast amount of demons roaming free. If she had to guess, Owein must’ve faced a desire demon or two. “I would never do such a thing.”

   “She’s dead! I watched her take her last breath.” Pain flooded his voice. “You lot tried to break her, but she fought. She-.”

   “I’m right here, Owein.” Cassandra placed a soothing hand on his taut shoulder. “My wolf.”

   Jolting, Owein’s rambling began to taper off.

   She caught sight of his copper eyes, bloodshot and filled to the brim with unshed tears. “Look, my wolf and you’ll see I’m right here. Can’t you see that?”

   Owein swallowed the lump of emotions stuck in his throat. “I watched you-.”

   “That wasn’t me.” Bending, she pressed her nose to his lightly bearded cheek, nuzzling in hopes to comfort. “I wish more than anything I can take those images away from you, but know that future will be no more.”

   “And what if you’re wrong? There is a bigger threat lingering.” Hand seeking hers, Owein threaded their fingers together. “What-.”

   “Alexius is dead,” Cassandra reminded. “And the rest of the Tevinter mages are already retreating to the north. Without their magister, they are lost.”

   Owein leaned into her touch. “Some will join the ranks of the Venatori. The helped this Elder One take over the south before encasing all of Thedas in pure terror.”

    “We will face this Elder one and all the other threats Together.” She brushed her lips over his bruised temple, down his bearded jaw, stopping a breath away from his mouth. Tenderly, Cassandra rubbed her thumb against the cut slicing through his bottom lips. His breath hitched, fingers tightening their hold as his head moved forward. “Because you changed that future. We are all alive and willing to fight at your side for the good of Thedas. And if it’s the Maker’s will, die trying to make things right.”

   “I can’t… Can’t…” A tear slipped past his guard. “I already lost you once. I can’t go through that again.”

   “You didn’t lose me,” Cassandra firmly spoke, nipping hard at his injured lip. A small taste that left them teetering on the edge, desperately wanting more. “I’m right here.”

   A sample wouldn’t do. Surging forward, Owein slammed his bleeding mouth to hers, drinking in her breathless groan and savoring the taste of berries and honey. They moved or as much as they could in their combined space. Soon, Cassandra was straddling his lips, hands buried in the thick mane of his hair, pulling him up and tightly against her. Months of wondering and waiting led to this explosive moment. Owein should’ve known even something as simple as a kiss would pack quite the bang. Every time they touched, it was like being hit by a bolt of electricity, igniting flames of desire and need.

   “I won’t lose you.” Owein twisted, hands seeking, only to hit the metal of her breastplate. He seethed through the pure need blazing through his veins. Growling, he grasped the edge of the piece of armor and yanked her mouth back to his. For now, this would have to do.

   Cupping his cheek, Cassandra tipped his head back, dark eyes shining down to chase the ghosts from his copper ones. “The only thing that can take me from you is the Maker himself.” The corner of her mouth lifted. “Even then I might fight.”

   Chuckling, Owein pressed his face into her shoulder as the first bit of grief started to slide away. “Stubborn woman.”

   “Damn straight.” She stroked her thumb along his jaw. “This is worth fighting for, Owein. You don’t believe in the Maker, but I believe that he put me on this path to meet you. With you, everything makes sense.”

 

_M’eudal -Darling_

_Is breá liom tú.- I love you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm trying my hand at the whole instant connection/forward romance thing.


	10. Fallout

   Still groggy from being awoken in the dead of night, Cullen stumbled through the light snow towards Owein’s tent. A guard stood watch, face scrunched in worry and hand clutched tightly over the hilt of his weapon. As Cullen drew closer, he could hear the Herald’s shouting in a language he didn’t understand. Cullen didn’t need to know the words to feel the heat behind them.

   “Commander.” The guard took a cautious step away from the ranting mage. “I tried to talk to him, but it’s like he doesn’t even know I’m here. Should I-?”

   “You’re dismissed,” Cullen quickly cut him off.

   “Sir?”

    “I said you’re dismissed,” Cullen repeated more forceful this time. “Don’t speak a word of this to anyone.”

   “Of course.”

   Once the guard returned to his post at Haven’s main gate, Cullen ducked under the flap of the ten and was promptly knocked on his ass by a force push. Fully alert now, Cullen traced Owein’s pacing form through the shadows. Even though Owein upgraded his tent for a longer one, the Herald still had to hunch in order to keep his head from hitting the canopy. Cullen could feel the hostility rolling off Owein in violent waves.

   “Trevelyan?” Cullen called out to no avail.

   The mage continued to ramble and pace as if he never heard him. “ _Mharaigh tú í_ ,” Owein growled spell at the ready. “ _Anois, mé a mharú_.”

   Cullen held up his hands in a desperate attempt to show Owein he was unarmed. “Owein, listen. It’s me, Cullen.”

   “Dún suas!”

   The light from the ball of flames resting in Owein’s open palm allowed Cullen to fully see the man’s face. Copper eyes were glazed over and full of anguish. Cullen might not be familiar with the look, but he knew Owein’s state all too well. Owein was caught in the middle of a night terror. And after Dorian’s account of what happened in Redcliff, Cullen concluded the mage’s mind was filled with memories of the future Alexius sent him too.

   Talking wouldn’t knock the Herald out of his current state. Touching him was a sure fine way to get a fireball to the face. Taking a deep breath, Cullen called on what little power that still lingered in his veins and projected his smite at Owein. The effort left Cullen light headed and quest.

   Magic suddenly cut off, Owein’s knees buckled as his mind was jarred from the Fade. Fighting for both his breath and bearings, he fervently looked around, searching the shadows. He knew the tells of a smite, even if it hadn’t caught him at maximum strength, leaving him to conclude the person right inside his tent wasn’t there to harm him. “Cullen?”

   Struggling to keep his stomach from rolling and losing its contents, Cullen groaned in response.

   Owein found his magic quickly returning and he casted a small ball of fire before suspending it in the air. He found the Commander on his hands and knees and paler than death itself. “Andraste’s mercy! What did I do?” He crawled across the tent. “How bad are you hurt?”

   “Didn’t hurt me,” Cullen managed between ragged breaths. “You… Nightmare…”

   Owein’s brow furrowed. “I was.”

   “Couldn’t snap you out of it.” The Commander pressed the heel of his palm to his throbbing temples. “Sorry for the smite.”

   “At least you held back.”

   Cullen nearly laughed. If Owein only knew what casting it took out of him with the absence of Lyrium in his system. “Are you okay?”

   “Are you?”

   “Haven’t used that ability in quite some time.” Cullen carefully omitted the face it was because he stopped taking Lyrium not long after being recruited by Cassandra from Kirkwall.

   “Guess I should find comfort in the fact you aren’t going around smiting every mage you see,” Owein joked, pleased to draw a chuckle from the warrior. He snatched the water skin he kept by his bedroll. “I wish I had something stronger to put some color back in your face. Water will have to do.”

   Sitting back on his heels, Cullen chugged the contents in hopes to settle his stomach. It did very little to help. His body was screaming at him to give in and take Lyrium to ease all the aches in his body. As hard as it was, Cullen pushed the urge away. The whiskey back in his room was calling his name.     

   Owein took the empty water skin back. “Did you hear me all the way through town?”

   “The guards at the gate did.”

   “Shit.”

   “They’re good men and have witnessed one or two of my night terrors,” Cullen softly assured. “That’s why they fetched me.”

   “You have night terrors?”

   “Mostly when sleeps does finally find me.”

   “I’m afraid sleep isn’t something I don’t want to find if this is going to be the result.” Owein scrubbed a hand over his tired face. “I’ve never been unable to control my magic. I could’ve… Damn it, Cullen.”

   “You still were. You didn’t use but a single force push that simply knocked me down because it caught me off guard.”

   Owein shook his head. “What if it was a guard? A villager?” He felt sick thinking about the possibilities.

   “C’ mon.” Forcing himself to stand on shaky limbs, Cullen opened the flap of the tent.

   Owein extinguished the ball of fire. “Where?”

   Catching the uncertainty in the mage’s voice, Cullen smiled. “I’m not about to lock you up, Owein.”

   “Perhaps you should. People would be safe.”

   “I think my quarters will do.” Cullen helped Owein up and stepped together into the cold night. He let the snow flurries beat down on his face for a moment. “It’s big enough for two and no chance of any random villager dropping in if a night terror finds you again.”

   “You don’t need-.”

   “Plus, there is whiskey.”

   Owein let out a soft sigh. “Lead on.”

   Cullen’s dwelling was at the back of the Chantry, away from most of its inhabitants. He strategically picked the spot for those nights his dreams in the Fade were haunted by the memories of his past so no one could hear. After letting Owein inside, Cullen brushed the snow from his hair. “Let me get a fire…” Cullen came up short as one came roaring to life in the hearth. A memory of a different kind nearly swept him away. “Well, to the whiskey then.”

   Drain both emotionally and physically, Owein dropped himself into a chair next to Cullen’s small dining table. “How long have you had night terrors?”

   Grabbing a pair of glass tumblers and the whiskey bottle, Cullen sat across from Owein. He found being honest with the Mage was the easier route and one he didn’t mind to take. Against the odds, Cullen was finding a friend in Owein Trevelyan. “Since the whole shit show at the tower back in Ferelden.”

   Owein took a moment to digest the information. To the fact that Cullen was opening himself up to him about something, he kept hidden from most of the world. “You spoke only a little of your time spent there.”

   “It was pleasant, well pleasant as could be, for being bound to one place.” Fillip up the glasses, Cullen went back in time when he was a wide eyed recruited with the disillusions he could help change the world.

   “Could Templars not leave?”

   “For small spurts of time. But other than that, Templar stayed on site.”

   “Doesn’t leave much room for a personal life.” Owein caught a bit of color dusting the Commander’s pale cheeks. Taking a glass, he gave it a testing sniff and was rewarded with a deep smoky smell. “But that look tells me that didn’t stop you.”

   Cullen played with his own glass. “Tired would be the correct term.”

   “Another Templar?”

   “Ah-no.” Cullen took a small sip of his whiskey, letting it burn all the way down to stop his rumbling stomach. “A mage actually.”

   Despite the weariness in his bones, Owein grinned. “A Templar and a mage, how poetic.”

   “It wasn’t that grand of a tale. Foolish infatuation is more like it. We were both young and though there was an attraction, we stuck to the lines drawn in the sand.”

   “You have some regret. After the circle fell, did you find her?”

   Cullen gulped down the rest of the liquid in his glass. “More like she found me. Came back to the Tower after rumors of madness from within began to spread.” He refilled his glass. “She’d been conscripted into the Wardens and returned seeing support for the Blight.”

   “The Hero of Ferelden?” Owein sat straighter in his chair. “Your crush was on the Hero of Ferelden?”

   Cullen mindlessly nodded. “After what happened… What I begged her to do in order to free the tower of its demonic hold, she didn’t harbor such feeling for me anymore.” After taking a deep breath to call the sudden spike of anxiety, Cullen retold the incident that brought the circle down. Told Owein of his own blood lust of revenge in wanting every last mage, under the control of blood magic or not, dead. Shame had him drowning his next shot in one gulp. “We weren’t the same people after that. She went on to save Thedas from the fifth Blight. While I, being on the verge of a washed up Templar, was reassigned to Kirkwall.”

   Owein knocked back his own glass and urged Cullen to pour another. “That’s where your mistrust of mages began.”

   “After all the torture, both mental and physical, I endured, I would say so.” Cullen held up a hand before Owein could probe further. “I told you a bit about myself. Seems fair, since we will be roommates and all, I can inquire about you.”

   The statement didn’t bring the amount of discomfort Owein expected. “Roommates?”

   Tipping back in his chair, Cullen shrugged. “No one will hear you if night terrors find you. Not to mention, you’ll be out on the road most of the time. Also, I don’t sleep much. So, no worries about disturbing me. I’m not going to force you, Owein. It might help to know you’re not alone.”

   “It actually does.” Owein took a small sip of his whiskey. “Ask away.”

   “You were in the future, weren’t you?” Cullen softly asked. “The one Alexius sent you to?”

   Unable to speak, Owein shook his head.

   “In your tent, you were shouting. Only it was wasn’t in common.”

   Owein tensed. “You didn’t understand any of it?”

   “No. sounded a bit Dalish.”

   “It was,” Owein confessed hoping Cullen realized how much trust he was putting in the Commander. “Or more an ancient dialect of it.”

   “Where’d you learn that?”

   “After I unintentionally escaped the Ostwick circle.”

   Cullen’s scarred mouth twitched. “And how does one unintentionally escape?”

   Owein told Cullen of the small and failed uprising of senior mages that resulted in the death of the innocents stuck in the middle. “I was still clinging to life when some passing Dalish found me and made me part of their clan.” Owein figured going any further would only serve to spook the warrior and drive a wedge between the budding friendship. “And before you ask, Cassandra knows. I would like it to stay between the three of us.”

   “And so it shall.”

   Owein urged Cullen to fill his glass once more. “My turn.”

   Cullen prepared himself to dig deeper into the memories he kept locked away.

   “You and Cassandra.” The Question rushed out of Owein’s mouth before he could think twice about it. He knew that he had Cassandra’s affections. What Owein didn’t know was if perhaps Cullen may have been trying to win it all this time.

   Cullen nearly choked on his whiskey. “Are you asking if there was or is something between me and the Seeker?”

   “I guess I am,” Owein sheepishly confirmed.

   “She is my dearest friend and nothing more.” Mindlessly, Cullen touched the ring hanging around his neck on a chain. Hidden from sight. Hidden from the world and those who would ask questions. “I care deeply for Cassandra and she’s helped me through some tough times after Kirkwall. But my heart as you’d say belongs to another.”

   “Oh? Who is the lucky woman?” Owein gave the Commander a teasing smile. “Or man?”

   Cullen didn’t sputter at the question. “She is gone.”

   Instantly, the humor died from Owein’s face. “Forgive me.”

   The Commander waved it away. “you didn’t know. So, no forgiveness needed. And, no, I won’t tell you who she was.”

   “Fair enough.” Owein wouldn’t push as he was quickly understanding Cullen wouldn’t do the same to him in order to extract more information about his past. “Ah, well. We haven’t talked about the large droves of mages finding their way to Heaven.”

   “Josephine things that the situation with the mages in unstable and is only going to deteriorate like the circles. Leliana chastened you for mistreating them when you invoked conscription.”

   Owein filled with his empty glass. “And what say you?”

   “I don’t think it’d mistreating them to take reasonable precautions,” Cullen answered. There was much debate between us, well, arguing really, about what incentives the mages really have to help us.”

   A growl rumbled in the back of Owein’s throat. “They weren’t there. They didn’t see.”

   “Which is why Cassandra kindly reminded them.” After pouring two more shots, Cullen capped the whiskey. Any more and they would have massive hangovers in the morning. “We can’t start second guessing one another. It will only serve to undo all the Inquisition’s hard word.”

   Owein knocked the back the contents of his glass. “Can’t be easy to be around mages given what you went through.”

   Cullen resisted playing with the ring again. “I admit, I have doubts about mages still, but my opinions of them have changed dramatically. Conscripting them was the right choice. Given them a chance to redeem themselves. The mages submitted to our authority. Do know, their safety and our followers are my responsibility. I will see that through.”

   “Despite what might have been said, I do intend to talk to Fiona to barter some type of offer to help inch her closer to the freedom she wants.” Owein let out a long sigh. “I do recognize all her efforts leading up to the Conclave and what she was fighting for. As a mage myself, I know what if feels like to be looked at as if you were a demon.”

   Finishing off his whiskey, Cullen stood to put the bottle away. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep. There is a bedroll in the closet. I’ll work on getting a proper bed tomorrow.”

   Head heavy from the whiskey, Owein laid it on his folded arms atop the table. “Sure you want to risk me slipping into another night terror?”

   “I told you. I’m no stranger to them,” Cullen reminded. “Rest, Trevelyan. Tomorrow is a new day.”

0o0o0o0o0o

   Owein caught Fiona by surprise the following morning by approaching her tent and the little headquarters she set up in an attempt to manage the mages under her charge. The Grand Enchantress looked as exhausted as Owein felt. Removed from the situation back at Redcliff, he could see the strain of the burden Fiona carried in the deep circles beneath bloodshot eyes. “Grand Enchantress.”

   Her head snapped up from the report she’d been reading. “Not sure that title applies now that we are prisoners of the Inquisition.”

   “Tell me something.” Owein tried to keep the bite out of his voice. “From the outside looking in, know what you invited into your bed, would you have decided differently than me?”

   Fiona’s head lowered. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”

   “Then you at least understand my reasoning.”

   “I do,” She agreed. “Not that others share my opinion. They think your Inquisition is no better than the Templar Order. That once you’re done with us, you’ll lock us up in a tower.”

    “ _Ar mhaithe le fuck,”_ Owein cursed to tired to care he slipped out of common.

   Fiona raised a brow. “Where does an Ostwick Circle Mage learn the language of the elves?”

   “I spent a lot of my time in the circle with my face buried in books.” Not exactly a lie. Owein was quite enamored by the Tower’s vast library that house all manner of books of a long list of subjects beyond the Chant of Light and history of magic. He made something good of a bad situation by giving himself a far deeper education than any of the tutors his father hired for his children could’ve offered. “Do you not think I understand your plight?”

   “You did conscript us.”

   As a precaution,” Owein feverishly argued. “To make sure none of you learned Alexius’s little trick. IF you saw, you would understand.”

   “There is a way.”

   “Pardon me?”

   “I have learned much in my years. If you allowed, I could see your memories.”

   “You can do this to anyone?”

   “Only once permission is granted.”

   “Can you take them away?”

   The desperation in his voice made her frown. “I’m afraid I never mastered that spell. To attempt would be to risk your entire memory being stripped away from you.” She lifted her hands. “May I?”

   After a moment or two of hesitation, Owein nodded. She pressed her chilling fingertips to his temple, which felt good since they were pounding from the mixture of alcohol and lack of sleep. He knew the instant her mage tapped into his mind. Watched a ray of emotions cross her face as the images played again in his head as it did hers.

   Closing her eyes to trap the tears of the Herald’s anguish, Fiona dropped her arms to her side. “I’m sorry. _Tá brón an domhain orm_ ,” She softly whispered experiencing his pain down to her bones. “If I had known… I’m surprised you even granted us the little sanctuary that you did.”

    Emotions running wild, Owein took a moment to center himself. “The world wants to see us mages as the true face of evil, thus ignoring the threat staring them in the face.” He gestured to the discolored sky. “Show them they’re wrong.”

   “I vow to you that we will help heal the sky. To help the people who so desperately need it.”

   “After, we will sit down and talk about terms that would’ve been discussed at the Conclave.”

   Fiona bowed her head. “Thank you, Herald.”

   Owein let out a huff of breath at hearing the damn title. He’d grown tired of correcting people. “Thank me when this is over and we live to tell the tale.”

   “Perhaps, for now, you should rescue your Seeker,” Fiona suggested. “Its seem Nikolas has been badgering her since first meal about our accommodations, among many other things, I suspect.”

   Owein reached the arguing pair in time for Cassandra to pin Nikolas with a deadly look and plainly told the mage to ‘deal with it’. He tried and failed miserably not to smile as Nikolas stomped his feet before sulking away. “Making friends I see.”

   Cassandra made a disgruntled noise. “I would very much like to know who in Thedas told them I’m the one to complain too.”

   “Must be your cheery disposition.”

   Meeting his gaze, annoyance quickly faded into concern. “Did you find any restful sleep last night?”

   Owein dragged a hand through his hair. “Cullen tell you about the night terror?”

   “Out of his concern for you,” Cassandra quickly assured not wanting Owein to think he was being judged or ganged up on. “Not to mention, I saw you pacing around the lake before you went off to clear your head in the way you do.”

   “Why were you up so late?”

   “I remembered the hollow look on your face at last meal and couldn’t sleep.” Moving closer, Cassandra brushed the back of her gloved hand along his pale cheek. “I wish you would’ve come to me.”

   Owein fought to keep her touch in place and begrudgingly let her arm fall back to her side. He desperately wanted to gather her close and drown himself in her taste. The memory of their kiss had been driving him wild the past few days. Thankfully, his tiredness left in the wake of his night terrors kept him in check. “You have enough to worry about with keeping the peace between all the advisors while planning our assault against the Breach. I didn’t want to burden-.”

   Cassandra was quick to cut him off. “I would’ve gladly accepted that burden, Owein.”

   “I know,” He assured with a smile. “But my roommate knows how to keep me in check.”

   “Roommate?”

   “Cullen left that part out, did he?”

   “Apparently so.”

   “He was the one who found me during my night terror last night. He had to smite me to knock me out of it.”

   “He what?”

   “No need to fret, my lady. It was merely strong enough to pull me from the Fade.”

   Cassandra was worried both by the fact Owein had been so lost that such measures had to be taken. As well as the fact Cullen used the ability and the toll it must’ve taken seeing it had been months since he last took Lyrium. “And you agreed to such an agreement?” She studied his tired face. “Rooming with a former Templar?”

   “Who better to keep the Mage from burning down Haven?” Lowering his voice, Owein leaned in close, drawing in her scent of leather and honeysuckle. “Unless you’re offering.”

   “Is this you trying harder to remain professional?” Cassandra was sure her chastising would have merit if her blood wasn’t boiling and her face was flushed at the mere thought of sharing a bed with him.

   “No one bit,” Owein admitted.

   Laughing, Cassandra forced himself to put a bit of distance between them. “Glad to see your sense of humor is back. Let’s me know you’re surfacing from your pit of darkness.”

   “Still have a bit to go.”

   “Do know you have people willing to help you.”

   “I know. This is something I have to work through on my own,” Owein softly informed. “But, please, don’t give up on me, my lady. I will see this through until the very last breath. We will end this.”

   “I have no doubt.” Cassandra gently squeezed his arm. “A messenger arrived from the Marsh. Are you up for joining us in the War Room?”

   “I could use something to divert my attention. Lead on, my lady.”

   Rolling her eyes with a smile, Cassandra started towards the main gates of Haven. It delighted her to no end the moment his hand fell to the small of her back as he crowded her on their small walk to the Chantry.

  

 

 

 

Translations:

 _mharaigh tú í_ (You killed her

 _Anois, mé a mharú_ (Now, I kill you).

Dún suas!” (Shut up)

Ar mhaithe le fuck (For Fuck’s sake)

tá brón an domhain orm (I’m so sorry)


	11. Old Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a bit of writer's block so this chapter seems a bit choppy. I do have the next chapters written just need to type them. Work has been crazy as we've been celebrating the 50th anniversary of the moon landing. Hopefully, once I get through this week at work I can post a bit more regularly. Anyways! Enjoy!

   “Owein.”

   The sudden voice coming from behind them sent Cassandra into attack mode. Whirling around, she freed her sword, trying to push Owein aside. An elf with dark golden hair and glowing amber eyes stood on the docks, one she didn’t recognize.

   Quick to act, Owein caught her sword arm. “Easy, _M’eudail.”_ He squeezed the wrist he held before launching himself forward, catching the elf in a back-slapping embrace. “Coram _! Ní féidir liom a chreidiúint é_.”

   “ _Buailte go maith, mac tire.”_ Coram returned the hold with the same enthusiasm. “ _Is maith an rud é tú a fheiceáil._ ”

   As the two males bantered back and forth in a friendly, almost brotherly tone, Cassandra relaxed and sheathed her sword. Thankfully, being far enough away, not many were paying them much attention. “IF you two would be so kind to use common,” Cassandra’s request paused their conversation. She cocked her head towards the Herald. “He hasn’t taught me much of your language.”

   “Hasn’t been much time for it,” Owein gently corrected.

   Coram eyed the warrior. “I take it she knows?”

   “About everything,” Owein answered the elf’s unspoken question. “Coram. This is Seeker Cassandra. _Mo bheannachd. Anam_.”

    “ _Anam_?” Coram echoed, eyes shining bright and mouth curved upwards. “ _Dha-rìribh_?”

   Owein nodded.

   Before Cassandra could speak, she found Coram squeezing the life out of her. His chuckle was warm against her ear. The carefree atmosphere had one of her own passing her smiling lips and hugging the elf back. Owein hadn’t been wrong when she spoke of how freely the Dalish were with their emotions and expressions. “What did he say?”

   Drawing away, Cora, beamed at her. “Good things.” He kissed both of her cheeks causing the Seeker to blush. “Such a pleasure to meet you, Cassandra.”

   Owein clasped a hand over Coram’s shoulder. “Not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing here?”

   “The Keeper sent me to check on you since we haven’t heard anything but rumors since the explosion,” Coram informed.

   “It’s been a wind whirl,” Owein sighed. “I wasn’t sure if it was wise to try to send out a dispatch. Many are accepting I am a mage, but only Cassandra and one other know of the true depths of my magic. With the likes of Rodrick breathing down my neck, I couldn’t risk giving him to rope to hang me with.”

   Coram nodded in understanding. “Which is why I asked the Keeper to allow me to leave the Dales to comes see you.”

    “The Dales,” Cassandra spoke in wonder. “That’s quite a trek for a visit.”

   Coram sent her a charming smile. “Good things I have the ability to shorten the trip?”

   The Seeker’s brow furrowed for a moment before realization set in. “What’s your other form?”

   Seeing how Owein had enough sense to trust Cassandra, Coram did the same. “A hawk.”

   “Can everyone in your clan shapeshift?” Cassandra mindless wondered examining the long feathers strung together and tied to the elf’s belt next to a tomahawk on his belt. A homage to the beast that lived within.

   “Almost,” Coram replied.

   Her mind shifted, focusing on another aspect of the elf’s form other than cutting down on travel time. “What was the way like? We’ve been only able to scout so far and also have been relying on rumors ourselves.”

   The human seeped Coram’s youthful face. “I saw many tares in the air. Much like that.” He pointed to the breach. “Smaller and spitting out demons anytime someone comes close enough to disrupt it.”

   Cassandra’ heart grew heavy. “Then things are far worse than we initially feared.” She glanced at Owein finding him studying the mark flashing across his left palm. “Is your clan holding up okay?”

   The inquiry caught Owein by surprise and also filled him with a warmth of gratitude for her asking on her own accord.

   “Aye.” Coram ran his fingers through his jet-black hair. “Though we’ve had our fair share of troubles with these, these…these…”

   “We’ve taken to calling them rifts,” Cassandra supplied when the rogue stumbled over his words.

   “They’ve forced us to stay put. We haven’t moved since the day you left for the Conclave.” That was over two if not three months ago and they’d already settled a camp in the Dales a few months before that. “The locals have been far more accepting of our presence. Most likely due to the fact we are helping protect the innocent from the constant onslaught of demon attacks. They even welcomed us into their homes to get us out of the weather. It’s quite strange to be embraced by shemlens.”

   “I keeping telling you shemlens are full of surprises,” Owein stated as he did for the hundredth time since joining the clan. From the corner of his eye, he glanced at Cassandra. “Some more than others.”

   Coram shifted a pack from his shoulder, offering it to Owein. “I’m afraid I do come with some bad news. We lost the Seer a month back.” Both male’s faces dropped into sadness. “Her last wishes were for me to bring you the things you left behind. I’m not sure why really. Some small odds and ends. Maybe a few things from your life before.”

    Somewhat shaken, Owein took the pack with trembling hands. After all, if it wasn’t for the Seer’s insistence, the Keeper would’ve sent another member of clan Lavellan in his place and Owein would still be wandering Thedas longing for a place to be truly accepted. A place where he belonged because even though he fully adopted the Dalish lift, there was no changing the fact he was indeed human. “Was she ever clear on her words?”

   Coram let out a soft snort. “Nye. She wasn’t.”

   Sensing their need to grieve, Cassandra squeezed Owein’s hand. There were no empty words offered as there were truly none that could help him deal with the death of a clan’s member. “I’ll see you at evening meal. Coram, you’re welcome to stay. You’ll find the Inquisition is welcoming to all.” And with that, Cassandra left the two on the dock.

   “Slán, Seeker.” Coram studied the Mage’s face as Owein tracked Cassandra’s receding form. “ _Grá amháin?”_ The smile on the human’s face answered his question far better than any words could. “Seems the Seer was right to push you here. You honestly think this woman is who she spoke of?”

   “When I left, I didn’t put much weight behind the Seer’s words. But the moment I met her, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t ignore them. Ignore Cassandra.”

   “The Keeper was right to listen to her.” Coram gestured to the pack Owein held. “What do you suppose the meaning behind my delivery is?”

   Owen resisted looking inside. He knew it held a few trinkets and wood carvings he left behind but was too afraid of what exactly what items from his former lives the Seer held on to. He didn’t think anything he had at the circle survived when they tried to throw away his body. “That this isn’t going to be as quick of an endeavor as we once thought.”

    Coram sighed. “It appears so.”

   Owein glanced up at the torn sky. “We are close, or I should say I thought we were, to sealing the Breach for good. He slung the strap of the bag over his shoulder. “With the fast amount of rifts you’ve reported along with this damn conflict, I fear, we are just beginning.”

   “Well.” Coram fell in step behind Owein. “If your Inquisition is offering, I’d love to stay and help in any way we can.”

   “You are most welcome, _deartháir.”_ Owein paused a moment. “Just keep your little flying trick tucked under your hat.”

   Coram’s brow furrowed in slight confusion. “I don’t wear a hat.”

   “It’s an expression. A human one.”

   “Your _Grá amháin knows?”_

“Yes, but at the moment a man called Rodrick is looking for any excuse to undermine the Inquisition and see me hanged for what happened at the Conclave.” Owein let a small ball of fire danced along his fingertips. “He’s already made it clear how he feels about the fact a mage holds the title Herald of Andraste. Gods only know what he would do if he found out of my Dalish roots.”

   Trying to defuse the situation and bring some humor to the conversation, Coram grinned. “Sounds like a charming man.”

   “If you are truly sticking around, you’ll meet him soon enough. Come.” Owein tugged the elf along towards the main gates. “Let’s get you some food while I introduce to some more cheerful people than Rodrick.”

   “Won’t they question how we know one another?”

   Owein shrugged. “I think by now most suspect I didn’t spend all my winters locked away in a tower.”

   “Visitor?”

   Owein jolted at the sound of Leliana’s voice. They’d just turned the bend towards the tavern and didn’t notice the Spymaster lingering right inside the gate. He couldn’t help but wonder where else the woman inserted herself and how much she’s witnessed the last few months. As the Inquisition’s spymaster, he knew her life revolved around the shadows. “Eh, yes.”

   Clicking his heels together, Coram bowed ever so slightly, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “Coram from Clan Lavellan,” He introduced himself. “A friend of Trevelyan.”

   “A friend?” Leliana echoed eyeing both males.

   Owein could literally see the questions forming in her head. He knew Leliana had been beyond frustrated with the lack of information she could find about his life. “I do have a few,” Owein quipped. “I took refuge with Coram and his clan when the circles fell.”

   Not necessarily a lie, Owein silently mused. Just adjusted the timeline a bit.

   Though he was sure she didn’t believe the statement, Leliana nodded. “If anyone is accepting of mages, it’s the Dalish. Smart choice.”

   Owein laughed. “I’ve been known to make them now and again.”

   Coram snorted.

   Leliana smiled herself. “Short visit?”

   “The Seeker informed me that the Inquisition is welcoming to all walks of life.” Coram’s gaze swept around the bustling town. “I thought I would stay a bit if there is room and a purpose.”

   Leliana looked up at the Breach. “Helping heal the sky and protect those that inhabit Thedas seems to be a good enough purpose, don’t you think?”

   “Aye,” Coram agreed. “I believe it is.”

   “We were about to go to the tavern. Would you care to join?” Owein noted his invitation caught Leliana by surprise. He also couldn’t help but notice the gleam in his friend’s eyes as he looked at the Spymaster. “That way you don’t have to fish around for just what kind of conversation we had.”

   Leliana smiled. “I suppose that is easier.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

_“Do you ever sleep, Cassandra?”_

_The Seeker’s head bounced up at the sudden voice and used the pew in front of her to hastily stand. “Most holy.” Surprised by her appearance, Cassandra tried to clear her mind since praying did very little to help in that endeavor. “What are you doing here? It’s late. You should be asleep.”_

_“As should you,” Justinia softly pointed out._

_“I’m not the one who has to try to garner peace between two feuding factions.” Cassandra took in the Divine’s dressed down appearance. No robes or finery. Simply covered up in a long simple cotton dress and a cloak fastened around her shoulders. Not many got to see this side of Justina. The woman. Not the shining figure of the Sunburst Throne. “Come. I’ll walk you back.”_

_Justina noted the way Cassandra’s demeanor shifted into the role of protector. “I would very much like to sit with you if you don’t mind.”_

_A bit flustered by the request, Cassandra nodded. “Of course. Please.”_

_“Feels good to rest my wear bones.” Justina eased herself into the empty pew, leaned her head back, and let out a deep sigh. “I am not a young woman anymore, Cassandra. These last few weeks have taken a lot out of me.”_

_“Do I need to fetch a healer?”_

_“No, no, my sweet child. My protector.” Justina padded the space next to her. “I want you to sit with me and indulge my thirst for some late-night conversation. I know you usually reserve such things for Leliana.”_

_Cassandra sat down next to the Divine, hating the mere fact what she said was true. These last few weeks had taken without mercy. Justina looked haggard with deep lines creased into her tired face, a result of the burden of the task put on her shoulder. “I believe an exception can be made for the Most Holy.”_

_“No titles. Not here,” Justina whispered reaching for Cassandra’s hand. “For just a little while, we are simply two women having a friendly chat.”_

_“What troubles you, Justina?”_

_She waved the question away. “That’s a question for tomorrow. Tell me, what were you praying for?”_

_Cassandra’s gaze shifted towards the statue of Andraste illuminated by a half dozen candles. “For these talks to be successful. To hopefully wake up someday soon to see Thedas stitching itself back together instead of destroying itself.”_

_“No prayers for yourself?”_

_“Not until these talks conclude.”_

_“Duty first.”_

_Cassandra shrugged. “It’s all I’ve ever known. That I’m good at.”_

_“Tell me.” Justina squeezed the warrior’s hand. “Is duty to the cloth all you see for yourself in the future?”_

_Thinking for a moment, Cassandra looked at the woman next to her. All the years of stress and duty left Justina looking weary with many regrets swirling in her glistening eyes. “I would like to see the day I hang up my blade. Well…” A smile pulled at Cassandra’s lips. “Not completely as I don’t think myself capable to relinquish them completely.”_

_Justina’s carefree laughter filled the empty Chantry. I think you’re right.”_

_“I am passionate about what I do, what I’ve done, and will do serving you and the Seekers. But-.”_

_“You want something more,” Justina finished. “Something different.”_

_Cassandra averted her gaze._

_“Do not be ashamed of that, Cassandra,” Justina fervently spoke pulling her dark gaze back. “Is there a man in your future?”_

_Heat flooded Cassandra’s cheeks. “Perhaps. Of the right one comes along.”_

_“Is that mage I saw you with this morning, not the right one?”_

_“He’s-.”_

_Once again, Justina laughed, cutting Cassandra off. “I may be old, but my eyes still work and I saw the way you two looked at each other. I could see the history passing between the heated glances.”_

_“I have not seen him in over four Winters. We parted ways long before that, though we did our best to keep in touch.” Cassandra’s heart filled with emotions as she spoke about Regalyan, but sadly, it didn’t shudder and ache to have him back at her side. There was still plenty of heat between them, Cassandra wouldn’t deny that. Only, she yearned for more._

_“Not the right one then?”_

_“No,” Cassandra whispered. “Sadly, no.”_

_“Any other prospects in your life?”_

_Now it was Cassandra’s turn to laugh. “Hasn’t been much time for that.”_

_Justina smiled. “Still you dream.”_

_“I do,” Cassandra confirmed with a soft smile of her won. “Vividly more so these days.”_

_“Is that so?”_

_The Seeker’s blush deepened._

_“Well, now you have to tell me,” Justina insisted. “If you don’t, I’ll just inquire with Leliana. We both know she loves a good gossip session.”_

_“I have spoken about this with her.”_

_“Are you telling me there is something in this world our dear Leliana doesn’t know?”_

_“Not unless she can walk into my dreams through the Fade.”_

_“Why haven’t you told her?”_

_“It’s foolish,” Cassandra whispered._

_“Indulge me, Cassandra.”_

_“There isn’t too much to tell, honestly. I never see his face. I simply feel him.”_

_“Oh! One of those dreams.”_

_Cassandra began to sputter. “No, that’s not-. I mean-.”_

_“I’m teasing, my child.”_

_The Warrior let out a soft huff of breath. Cassandra couldn’t help but wonder if this would be something she’d experience if her mother had lived. Not that Cassandra didn’t enjoy Justina’s company. “He loves me. Understand and accepts everything that makes me, well, me. There is joy.” Even if it was foolish and most likely the result of her overly romantic nature, Cassandra smiled. “There is warmth. Maker, there is so much warmth when I’m at his side. I feel protected. Not that I ever need a man for such a thing as I can protect myself just fine.”_

_“I don’t think there is a soul brave enough in all of creation to argue that point.”_

_“All I know is it makes sense and it’s foolish, I know. It simply an illusion. Something conjured-.”_

_“Nonsense.”_

_“How can it be more than a dream?”_

_Justina grasped the Seeker’s other hand. “And how do you know it’s not the Maker trying to tell you what you yearn for is waiting somewhere close by on your life path.”_

_“I doubt the Maker has anything to do with it.”_

_“You’re one to know that the Maker’s will isn’t always clear.”_

_“Exactly, what is he trying to tell me with these dreams?”_

_“To not give up hope,” Justina replied. “To not let yourself push it away once you find it, but to grab and hold on tight. Most of all, to fight until your dying breath to protect that warmth.”_

_The sheer convection in Justina’s voice left Cassandra both speechless and hopefully for the first time in ages. Not simply to meet the man who’d been haunting her dreams, but that there would be peace and happiness in the days to come. That the light would cut through the darkness and lift Thedas out of the shadows._

_“I won’t let you down, Justina,” Cassandra vowed to her, Andraste, and the Maker. “With the talks or the Inquisition, this will end.”_

_Justina kissed each hand she held. “Your faith is unwavering, Cassandra.”_

_“I learned from the best.”_

    Dream lifting, Cassandra woke to a pair of warm copper eyes starring at her. Not able to set up tents due to the ever-persistent rain, they took shelter in a cave deep in the Marsh. Which inadvertently gave them an excuse to sleep near one another. Cassandra did make sure to leave a respectable distance between their bedrolls.

   “Why aren’t you sleeping?” Cassandra softly asked not wanting to disturb the sleeping Dorian.

   A smile tugged at his lips. “Watching you sleep is comforting.”

   She returned his smile. “It’s a bit creepy.”

   “And here I was trying to be romantic,” Owein whispered earning an eye roll along with one of her disgruntled noises he loved so much. “You looked peaceful. A far better sight than what I’m sure awaits me in the Fade.”

   Concern flooded her face. “Owen, you can’t keep yourself up. You need to rest.”

   “Is that not what I’m doing now?”

   “Proper rest,” Cassandra corrected. “You haven’t slept since we left Haven. How do you expect to meet the Avvar in combat when you look like you’ll fall over with a push of a finger?”

   “I have you to protect me.”

   “Owein.”

   Sighing, Owein rolled onto his back. “I know. I just don’t want to risk it. What if I hurt one of you? What if…” He trailed off the moment Cassandra shifted to pillow her head on his shoulder. Instinctively, he wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. The dimness of the cave protected them from Varric who was currently sitting at its opening, on watch.

   His warmth instantly filled her, leaving Cassandra content and uncaring about her self-imposed rules. Justina would encourage her to stop ignoring the call of her heart in a world so turbulent and uncertain. She rested her palm over his heart. “I wish there was something I could do to remove those images from your mind. That I could do something to help you.”

   Owein nuzzled her crown. “This helps,” He softly assured. “You help. More than I can put into words.”

   “Then sleep.”

   “Cass.”

   “I’m not going anywhere.”

   There was a smile catch in his voice. “This isn’t very professional.”

   Cassandra laughed. “We haven’t been doing all to well on that front.”

   “I’m next on watch. Varric-.”

   “Will keep his mouth shut if he knows what’s best for him.” Tilting her head back, their lips brushed in a gentle, yet fiery kiss. She put all her efforts into keeping herself in check and not indulge in his sweet taste. “And all the more reason you need to sleep now.”

   Owein melted under her dark gaze. “Don’t let me hurt anyone.”

   She caressed his lightly bearded cheek. “Nothing is going to happen. Trust me.”

   “With my life.”

   “Close your eyes, my wolf,” Cassandra coaxed nestling her head in the crook of his neck. “Sleep.”

   Kids growing heavy, almost as if her words carried some sort of magic, Owein complied with the Seeker’s orders. Covering her hand with his own, he found himself slipping seamlessly into a dreamless part of the Fade.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

   It was over. Three days after returning from the Mire, Owein along with the members of the Inquisition and the conscripted mages marched up to the remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes to seal the breach. Sitting on the stone wall right outside the Chantry overlooking the town celebrating, Owein whittled a small piece of wood, working his small curved blade to carve out the Inquisition symbol as a tribute of their victory. Even it did nearly kill him. He was struggling as his tools he was use to was still sitting in the pack that Coram gave him before he left for the Mire. He still hadn’t found the strength to look inside.

    Owein glanced up at the scarred sky, remembering the agonizing pain the moment his mark connected with the rift and how he collapsed the moment it was over drained of every ounce of energy. He didn’t even realize that he was face first in the dirt until he felt Cassandra leather-covered fingers against his face and heard her pleas to hold on.

   Latching onto her words, Owein did just that. Now, the town celebrated though the work was far from over. The Sky might be healed, but rifts still remained and Red Templar still roamed over Thedas causing havoc.

    “Seems odd you’re up here by yourself while everyone else is down there dancing and drinking themselves silly.”

   Glancing up from his carving, Owein glanced over his shoulder. “And what are you doing up here, _M’eudail?”_ His heart twisted pleasantly in his chest the way her face lit up at the term of endearment.

   “After making sure that Varric wouldn’t get himself into too much trouble, I came looking for you.”

   The corner of his mouth curved upward. “Did you now?”

   “I was worried,” Cassandra softly confessed, brow knotting together. “I see you fall the moment you close the Breach and I can’t… I thought…”

   Setting aside his stuff, Owein darted to his feet to take her face in his hands. He wasted no time drawing her close, nose brushing and breath mingling. “ _Bain an smaoineamh amach._ I’m right here.” He cherished the way her gloved hands reached out to mirror his gesture. “A bit worn out and could sleep for days, but I’m fine. I walked away.”

    “I don’t know what would happen if you didn’t.”

   “We closed the Breach,” Owein whispered. “Tomorrow we will get back to work. Tonight, simply enjoy our victory.”

   “You’re right.”

   “Of course, I am.”

   Chuckling, Cassandra nipped at his lips. She watched his copper eyes darken at the small taste. It would be far so easy to lean forward and lose herself in him as they both promised themselves, they would wait for this very moment until after they sought out the Inquisition’s goal to seal the breach. And Cassandra planned to do that, but first, she wanted Owein to go out amongst the people who believed in him to bask in the accomplishment that would’ve happened without him. “Come, let us go down with the others. Even Coram is down there in the mix of it all. Seems like he’s realized we’re not all bad.”

   “He’s always been a forward thinker within the clan.” Owein’s smile grew. “Will you dance with me, my lady?”

   “Do you even know how to dance, wolf?”

   “Perhaps I’ll surprise you.” Lowering his head for one more kiss, his lips barely touched hers when the bells rang out.

  

 

slán, Iarrthóir- Farewell, Seeker        

 _deartháir-_ brother

Well met, wolf - Buailte go maith, mac tire

It’s good to see you - Is maith an rud é tú a fheiceáil

My blessing - mo bheannachd

One love- grá amháin

_Bain an smaoineamh amach- Banish the thought_

 


	12. Haven's Destruction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes are mine. I do my hardest to catch them, but well you know. I'm still looking for a beta if anyone is interested.

   “Will it work?” Owein demanded, life returning to his weary bones. Hope replaced dread. If there was even a fraction of a chance to keep the people of Haven safe, even at the cost of his own life, he was going to take it. “Will it, Cullen?”

   The Commander forced a hand through his disheveled curls. “Only if you buy us the time.”

   Owein’s grip tightened on his staff. “Then I’ll find it. Coram.” Catching his friend by the arm, he pulled him close while the hall broke out into commotion. “Scout ahead. Make sure the way is safe and guide them through the mountains.”

   Coram’s brows drew together. “You can’t face this thing alone. You will surely be killed.”

   “He won’t be alone.”

    Owein’s head jerked to the side, heart lurching into his throat. Face coated in grime from battle, hair matted with sweat, Cassandra stood with her sword and shield at the ready. “You’re going with the others,” He argued.

   Brown eyes narrowed. “Blight that.”

   Coram eased himself out of what was to become another battle zone. “I’ll be off then.”

   “Cassandra, I-.” The rest of his rather heartfelt argument was muffled against her lips as she seized him by the front of his ropes and yanked him down into a searing kiss. For a fraction of a second, all Owein could feel, taste, and smell was the Seeker.

   Abruptly, Cassandra broke away, leaving him dazed. “If you honestly think I’m going to let you go out that door to face that thing alone, then closing the Breach must’ve scrambled your brains.”

   “And allow you to risk your life?”

   Her fingers tightened in his robes. “After everything… After…” Cassandra fought against an onslaught of sheer emotions. In the face of this new threat, of their possible death, she would remain strong as always. Moving her shield to her sword hand, she placed her now free gloved hand to his dirt cheek. “I will not let you go out there alone. I will not lose this-you, my wolf. I would rather die fighting at your side, giving the people of Haven a chance, they need to escape, and fighting for a future to experience with you than flee to face one without you.”

   Sighing in acceptance, Owein squeezed her wrist, pressing his brow to hers. “Together then?”

   “I rather like the sound of that.”

   The corner of his mouth lifted. “Me too.”

   Clearing his throat, Cullen waited until the pair pulled back from one another. “We will light a signal. You’ll need to distract that thing for as long as you can.” He clasped his hands over both of their shoulders. Golden eyes shimmered with words caught in his throat. He couldn’t-no- wouldn’t believe this would be their last interaction. They come so far, done the impossible with still so much to accomplish. Cullen couldn’t fathom doing it without either of them. “Fight well, my friends.”

   Cassandra offered the best reassuring smile she could muster. “We will see you on the other side, Cullen.”

   Owein nodded. “Go, now,” He insisted. “Get our people to safety.”

   “Maker watch over you both,” Cullen whispered and hurried to help organize the crowd at the back of the chantry.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

    “Owein, hurry!” Cassandra cried out over the roar of the dragon circling overhead. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before. The flames burning all around them casted a glow that gleamed at the Lyrium infused in its scale.

   Body screaming in pain from the countless skirmishes tonight, Owein worked through it to finish realigning the trebuchet. The dragon let out a high-pitched noise causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand at attention. Something was wrong. Something far sinister than an archdemon was approaching. Mechanism in place, Owein scooped up his staff and jumped down. “Cassandra.”

   The blast of flames from the beast hitting the ground, sent the pair flying apart. Ears ringing, Owein struggled to sit up. “Cassandra!” He found the Seeker in a heap right on the other side of the ring of fire he was now encased in.

   The archdemon landed hard effectively separating the two as well as Owein’s only path out to the Seeker and to freedom.

   Baring his teeth, Owein raised his staff over his head, magic crackling all around him, churning and building as he let his raw emotions fuel his spell.

   “Foolish mortal!” A booming voice echoed throughout the night. “Do you honestly think you harbored enough power to defeat such a beast?”

   The new voice stole Owein’s focus, spell dying on a curse as the dragon’s roar knocked him backward until he landed face first in the cold dirt. Staff too far from his grasp, Owein cursed the mark and pain flaring up his arm the moment a figure passed through the flames. He had no time to ponder just what in the Fade the thing was before it took him by his left wrist and wrenched him up off the ground. Up close, the thing was ghastly with red Lyrium much like the archdemon, fused into its body.

   Owein’s gaze shifted behind its shoulder, heart-pounding upon seeing Cassandra stirring. He needed to distract the monster suspending him in the air to give his warrior a chance to recover. Settling his copper gaze back onto the horrific creature before him, Owein fought through the pain once more and gave it a tight-lipped smile. “The Elder one, I presume.”

   “Pretender. Look upon me and see what you’ve tried to be.”

   “I’m looking,” Owein huffed. “And believe me, I have no intentions of trying to become you.”

   “Know me! Exalt the Elder one! The will that is Corypheus!”

   Clawed hand wrapped around his neck, Owein felt a rib crack the moment he was pinned to the ground under the Elder one. “Ah, you. Umm…” He struggled to even his breathing. “Act as I’m supposed to know that name. I’m sure I would remember something as revolting as you.”

   “Fight. Resist.” Corypheus stroked a talon down the human’s battle tarnished face. “You all do.”

   “Well, since I have your permission.” Owein bucked, trying to dislodge the vice-like grip on his neck only to realize the only thing it served as amusement for Corypheus. “Fucking, Bastard! I am not afraid of you!”

   Corypheus smiled. “Empty words shouted into the darkness.” Placing the tip of a talon above the mage’s right brow, Corypheus dug down deep into his skin as he slowly dragged it downward. “They are always lies.”

    Cassandra came around to the sound of Owein’s cries of pain. Taking a moment to size up the situation, she fought to push to herself onto her feet, grabbing her fallen sword in the process. “Owein!” Leaping over the flames, Cassandra rolled to dodge the archdemon’s tail, utilizing her countless hours of training, to land effortlessly on her feet into her battle stance. “Let him go.”

   “Cassandra, no!”

   It was too late. Corypheus moved like lightning, catching Cassandra effortlessly by both the wrist of her sword arm and neck. “Emotions make you weak. Foolish.” He sent the warrior flying. “Reckless.”

   She hit the trebuchet with enough force Cassandra was surprised her teeth didn’t rattle right out of her head. Breath gone and vision graying, she couldn’t move and was helpless to do anything more than watch as Corypheus refocused on Owein.

   Through the haze of blood now flooding his vision from the deep gash left by Corypheus’s claw, Owein noted the creature now held some sort of orb in his left hand. It began to glow red, reminding Owein of the Red Lyrium he encountered in the future Alexius sent him too.

   “I am here for the anchor. The process of removing it begins now.” Corypheus’s other hand shot out, a blinding light swirling in his palm, making the mark on Owein’s hand come to life. “It is your gault, ‘Herald’. You interrupted a ritual, years of planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose.”

   The Elder one’s rambling became lost as Owein cried out once more. Writhing in the dirt, he grabbed his left wrist, pinning it when whatever Corypheus was doing forced it to lift upwards. The pain. Maker, the pain. Having his eyes all but gauged out felt pleasant compared to what was coursing through his veins now.

   _Owein._ Cassandra couldn’t quite voice the name, but terror and dread filled her watching Corypheus charge the mage to suspend him in the air by the wrist once again. Using what strength she could, Cassandra blindly groped for the weapon knocked out of her grip upon impact. She wasn’t sure what she intended to do. No amount of swordsmanship could take down both their foes. All that was left was to see out their original plan and burry Haven. Fingers wrapping around the damaged hilt, she lifted her head to search the darkness, holding her breath while she waited for Cullen’s signal. All their pain and suffering would mean nothing if the townspeople were caught in the avalanche.

   _Do it!_

Hearing the mage’s voice in her head, Cassandra’s gaze cut to him, heart lurching ounce it settled on his heavily bloodied face. A result from the jagged gash cutting through his right eye. _Owein?_

_Do it and run!_

_And leave you!_

_Please, my love,_ Owein pleaded in desperation. _Do it for me. We have to stop him._

 _I know._ Gathering her waning strength, Cassandra settled on shaky limbs. She gripped the sword in both hands since they shook so badly, she feared she would lose her grip. _I’m sorry, my wolf._

_Bring it down, my lady. Burry the bastard._

Cassandra swung with all her might and cut the tension-filled line to set off the trebuchet. The impact triggered the avalanche instantly, shaking the ground beneath them. Over the roar of the dragon, she heard Owein’s cry of surprise a moment before his flying form collided into her. Arms around him, Cassandra twisted as they fell off the base of the trebuchet and slid down the snow-covered slope. She caught a glimpse of something. A hole maybe. An entry point to one of the many underground passages? There wasn’t much time to divert their decent as it was far to late to do anything before the blackness swallowed them both.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

   It had been two hours, possibly more, since the ground stopped rumbling. Cullen forced himself to focus on keeping the caravan moving deeper into the mountain range. If Owein and Cassandra failed to subdue the threat, they would need to find all the coverage they could. There was less of a panic amongst the people now that a blanket of relief, accompanied by grief, fell over them while they trudge through the thick snow. They finally felt sage, but the cost had been too high.

   “You have to keep moving,” Cullen urged helping a young boy cross a rather difficult boulder. The more ground they put between them and Haven, the better.

   “There is no need to rush anymore.”

   Hearing Coram’s voice had Cullen turning only to fins a hawk circling above the tree line. “What do you mean?” The hawk dove and left Cullen reeling as the bird transformed mid-flight so that the elf stood before him. Cullen stumbled and tripped over his own feet in an attempt to retreat. “Holy Mother of Andraste!”

   “Don’t freak out,” Coram begged limbs shaking from the aftermath of shifting forms. Going from near weightlessness to a full-body weighed heavily by muscles always left Coram a tad weak until his senses leveled out.

   Cullen scrubbed a hand over his face. Still, Coram stood before him, breathing heavily and swaying in the thick snow. He didn’t know how to hand this type of magic. Transfiguration wasn’t something practiced in circles. “You’re-you’re a hawk?”

   “Aye.” The elf stumbled over to lean again the boulder next to Cullen. “I know your mind is spinning, but try to focus on the important questions. My head is splitting at the moment. I got caught by a bit of debris from the avalanche.”

   That seemed to knock Cullen out his stupor. After seeing a tear in the sky spewing out demons and an archdemon up close and personal, seeing the rogue’s shapeshifting ability wasn’t completely earth-shattering. Pushing to his feet, he helped ease Coram down before the elf’s legs gave out “Did you-.” Throat tight, Cullen had to work past the lump lodged there. “Were they successful?”

   Coram shook his head. “The avalanche swallowed Haven whole. There was this insane looking creature that showed up.”

   “I take it you don’t mean the archdemon?”

   “There was lots of noise, but I think I heard it call itself Corypheus.”

   Now, dread-filled the warrior’s very soul. “Corypheus?” He remembered the name from Kirkwall. Remembered all too vividly Hawke’s involvement in trying to destroy the Tevinter magister. “Are you certain.”

   “Fairly, yes.”

   Cullen placed the knowledge aside for now. Corypheus’s sudden reappearance was too big of a problem to handle when they were lumbering through the mountains, defeated and distraught.  “What about Owein and Cassandra?”

   Coram pressed the heel of his palm to his throbbing temple. “I honestly don’t know. I saw them tumble down from the trebuchet, but lost sight as the avalanche took the town.”

   A small burst of hope began to grown and, by the Maker, Cullen was going to cling to it. “You’re telling me there is a chance they survived?”

   “Possibly.”

   Cullen was already mounting a search and rescues mission in his head. If they reached a good and safe spot, he could take a few men and retrace their path in hopes to find signs of life. “How much time do you need to recover before you can take your other form?”

   Smile tugging at his lips, the rogue tilted his head. “Not long. A healing draft will help the head and cut down on time.”

   Cullen was already helping the elf to his feet. “We must secure a safe spot for the people. Then we go dine them. When you’re able, I’ll need you to get an eagle-err-hawk eye view. The dark and snow won’t make it easy.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

   When the harsh light of the burning sun began to fade, Owein was surprised to find himself surrounded by green. He frowned. This wasn’t right. The last thing he remembered after Corypheus tried to claw his eye out was sliding along with Cassandra down a slope as a wall of snow threatened to swallow the town whole. Instead of being in the damp cold, he was in a small meadow amongst large trees that were oddly familiar to him.

    “I know this place,” He found himself whispering into the air.

   “I would hope so. You spent much of your time here after joining the Clan. You and Coram would spend hours here debating about life,” A woman spoke behind him. “why are you frowning, _mac tire_? You helped seal the veil.”

   Whirling around, Owein stumbled at the sight of the older elven woman, eyes a blazing blue with a  vallaslin running down the side of her face in matching color. He swallowed hard. “Am I dead?”

   “Now, why would you think that?”

   “You’re dead, seer,” Owein spoke on a shaky breath. “Coram delivered the news himself and saw out your last request.”

   The woman smiled. “He was always a trustworthy lad. He loves you like a brother. I hope you know that.”

   “I ask you again, Astrid.” Owein searched her face. “Am I dead?”

   “No,” Astrid assured. “At least not yet, that is.”

   Owein’s heart sank to the bottom of his stomach. “So, this is what? Some sort of pitstop?”

   Closing the distance between them, Astrid took both of his hands. “I only meant, we all die _, mo pháiste._ Your time isn’t up just yet.”

   As he breathed a sigh of relief, Owein’s mind shifted and grew nervous at his next question. “What about Cassandra?” He didn’t even wait before he started to ramble, far too afraid of Astrid’s answer. “I should’ve made her go with the others. The odds weren’t in our favor. Cullen or Coram could’ve dragged her-.”

   “And your Seeker would’ve hated you for it.”

   Owein’s shoulders slumped. Of course, the Seer was right.

   “You warrior wanted to right by your side. To go down swinging, as you shemlen say, then let you face that terror alone.” Astrid squeezed his hands. “I told you when you left a warrior awaited you, remember.”

   “I didn’t believe you at the time. I thought perhaps you told them to the Keeper to help convince him to send me to the Conclave as I’ve had more dealing with the world outside the clan the most. I know he was hesitant as, even after all the years, was an outside.”

   “And why doubt my words, _mac tire?_ Had they led you astray before?”

   “Well, no.” In fact, they provided comfort and a sense of purpose most of the time. “I am a mage. Something not looked kindly upon outside of the clan. I didn’t want to open myself and have another repeat of the circles.”

   “But then you meet your warrior.”

    The corner of his mouth twitched. “Instantly, I was drawn to her. I had toe greatest urge to not only bring her joy and cherish her but protect her at all cost.”

   “And she returns those feelings because your souls are connected.”

   “We put the Inquisition’s mission first, to see it’s mission through before we would allow ourselves to act on our connection.”

   “I hope you two don’t plan to use that excuse now a bigger threat has emerged.”

   Eyes shining, Owein’s voice wavered. “She lives?”

   “Your _Larrthóir_ has proven time and again to be resilient and tough as nails.”

   “That she has.” He couldn’t help but think to the night by the lake when she was ambushed.

   Astrid lifted a hand to his cheek, knowing exactly where his thoughts strayed to. “You protected her, even exposing your secret because you couldn’t stand the thought of her hurting.”

   “I can’t see a future without her, Seer. Please, tell me-.”

   “She lives thought you both are gravely injured.”

   Not exactly what he wanted to hear. “Will we see the morning?”

   “Aye,” Astrid assured. “Though beyond that is uncertain as the world around you plunges deeper into turmoil.”

   “I need to get back.”

   “Will you listen to a few more of my words, _mac tire?_ ”

   Owein paused and waited.

   “Hold on and don’t let go of the things that bring you joy. Brings you warmth in these cold times.” Astrid’s blue eyes glowed with the passion behind her words. “The clan will always be a part of you, but you finally found your place. Found a family that will accept all of you. Don’t hold back. Let them in and live. You walk a dangerous path that can take any one of you away in an instant. Live with no regrets.”

   “Thank you.” Owein kissed her knuckles before he bowed his head and pressed his brow to them. His heart ached knowing that this incredible woman was gone without having said a proper goodbye. She was, when it came down to it, his mother. Astrid nursed him back to health. Convinced the Keeper to allow him to join the clan. Even fought for him to go through his trails to unlock the secrets of the magic that laid within. “You honor me once again with your wisdom. I hope to make you proud and show the Keeper along with everyone else your faith in me wasn’t misplaced. I will stop this threat or gladly die trying.”

   Astrid drew Owein close. “Owein, the noble wolf. You more than live up to the name. I am so proud of you. I’m only sorry I had to leave before you completed your journey.”

   “I will miss you. Thank you for everything.” After a long moment, Owein draw away and allowed her to tenderly wipe the few tears that slipped down his cheek. “I must go.”

   “Protect your _Larrthóir._ Hold onto her. Love her. Most off all, be happy.”

   “On my honor.”

0o0o0o0o0o0

   Coming back to reality was painful. Owein found himself overwhelmed by it to the point his magic flared, leaving him bouncing between his two forms.  

    _By the Gods!_ He rather liked being in the meadow.

    Cassandra surfaced from the darkness with a pounding head and a heavily aching body. Gingerly, she lightly touched her temple and came away with blood. After a bit more assessment, she found quite a bit of it plastered all over her face. Moving, even a fraction, helped the Seeker realizes she had more than one broken bone.

   _Cassandra._

   Searching the dimly lit cavern, Cassandra found Owein a few feet away. The mage was flashing between his human and wolf form. “Owein.” Cassandra began the painful process of crawling to his side. “What’s wrong?”

   Owein struggled to calm his reeling mind. _Injured. Can’t stay… Need other form to cope._

“Then why are you fighting?”

   _Won’t be able to protect you if I shift._ He had not mana or stamina left to do anything but exist.

   “Switch, Owein!” Cassandra commanded.

   _But-._

“Do it! If it will suppress some of your injuries until we get help, then do it!” Though she could tell he was displeased by his inability to stay in human form, he complied and she stroked a hand soothingly through his matted fur. The gentle touch caused Owein to whimper. “I’m going to see what’s up ahead and hopefully find a way out of here.”

   _You’re hurt_ Owein argued.

   Cassandra gave him a small smile. “I’ve had worse.”

   _Need to practice on lying, my lady. You’re horrible at it._

Laughing, she came across her badly damaged word that survived the journey of their tumble from the trebuchet. “Stay put.”

   _Sadly, I’m not going anywhere._

“Just stay with me,” She carefully nuzzled his snout. “Our story doesn’t end here.”

  

_mac tire- Wolf_

_mo pháiste- my child._

_Larrthóir- Seeker_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to break this section of the game up to help things flow a bit better. Hopefully, you guys are still enjoying this story.


	13. Survival

   Through the howling wind, Cassandra could hear voices. Mustering the strength that was rapidly weaning, she lifted her head from the warmth of Owein’s fur, trying to pinpoint the source. They had collapsed together after what seemed like hours of wandering in the cold snow. “Someone is out there,” Cassandra explained, groping around the snow for her damaged sword.

   Owein uncurled himself from around her, copper eyes alert, ears twitching.

   “Stay close,” Cassandra breathlessly pleaded.

   Wedging his head under her arm, he helped her kneel, letting out a soft whine when she swayed and eyes began to drift close. Owein nudged her chin with his snout.

   “I’m okay.”

   Owein made a noise of disagreement.

   “Quiet.” Finally finding her blade, Cassandra held it close and clutched Owein’s fur for support. “I can’t see them.”

   Neither could he. Owein felt completely helpless knowing he couldn’t protect her. He barely had the energy to breathe.

   Cassandra, a hand pressed to her bleeding side, managed to get her footing.  “Stay close. Don’t argue,” She quickly snapped. “I’m fine. Now, stay put.”

   Grumbling, Owein obeyed. He was too damn tired to do anything else.

   Stumbling through the thick snow, Cassandra caught herself on a nearby tree. The world began to spin around her. _Maker, not yet!_ She silently prayed leaning heavily against its trunk. All she needed was a little more strength. Just enough to neutralize the threat and get Owein to safety. Nothing else mattered. No even her own life.

   “Cassandra.”

   Her eyes snapped open. “Cullen?” Cassandra could hardly hear the voice over the roar of the wind. “Cullen! We’re here!”

   A twig snapping behind her had Cassandra whirling, blade at the ready. Thankfully, her current state left her sloppy and therefore missed slicing the Commander’s throat open.

   “Easy now.” Catching her by the waist, Cullen took her weight to keep her from falling face-first into the snow. Smelling blood, he sheathed his sword in order to search for the source. “Help me out, Cass. Tell me where you’re hurt.”

   Cassandra shook her head. “Owein.”

   “He’s alive?” Owein asked hopefully. He searched the dimly lit area wishing he hadn’t dropped his torch as his visibility was complete shit. The fact the mage wasn’t with her was cause for great alarm. Owein had to be nearby. There was no power on earth that could separate the two. Cullen pulled her arm over his shoulders. “Take me to him.”

   Cassandra was fighting to stay conscious therefore leaving Cullen little choice but to drag her along. “To the left,” She whispered, swallowing her cries of pain as she was forced to move. Find Owein. Her wolf. Her heart. Cassandra found herself praying to the Maker once again to not be cruel and take her heart away from her. Not before they had a chance to explore the connection between them. Especially, since she was the one who insisted they do everything they could to ignore it while putting the Inquisition’s mission first in closing the Breach. “There.”

   “Shit.” Cullen wrenched the damaged sword from the Seeker’s bloody hand and did his best to shield her while keeping her upright. “A bloody wolf! Is that what attacked you?”

   “Owein,” She whispered.

   “We’ll find him,” Cullen assured. “As soon as we take care of this monstrous wolf. You should count yourself lucky you’re still standing after going around with that.”

   Cassandra chocked on a laugh. “Standing is a bit strong.”

   “Then let me-.”

   “No!” Sensing Cullen’s movements, Cassandra became alert and threw herself down into the snow, putting herself between the Commander and Owein.

   “Blood lost has made you delirious.” Now that his other hand was free, Cullen drew his weapon. “It may look like a fluff ball, but that wolf is the size of a horse and could easily tare us both the shreds.”

   “No.” Cassandra dragged herself closer to the wolf. “Owein.”

   “I give you my word that we will find him, but-.”

   “Listen to me!” Cassandra yelled collapsing next to the motionless wolf. She ran her bloody fingers through his fur, heart hammering in her throat.

   In disbelief, Cullen watched Cassandra lower her head closer to the wolf’s massive one, murmuring gentle words and stroking its mane almost as a lover would. Could it be? Maker, if he hadn’t seen enough for one night. “That’s Owein?”

   Nodding, Cassandra let the darkness take over once more.

   “Maker in heaven.” Holstering his weapon, Cullen knelt and, if he did have any doubts of the Seeker’s claims, found them vanishing as Owein transformed back into his badly injured form. “Bull! Over here!”

   The Qunari with ice plastered to his face stumbled out of the darkness. “Well, shit.”

   Owein offered them both a weak smile. “Surprise.”

   Cullen shook his head. “We need to get them back to camp.”

   “I’m… I’m starting to…” Owein’s words began to slur. “Had more stability in my other form.”

   “Switch,” The warrior urged. “You can tell me about your little trick later.”

   “First, get Cassandra to a healer.”

   “You take the Seeker, I’ll get Owein.”

    Glancing up, Cullen looked through the falling snow until he saw the faint form of a hawk circling above. “Get the word to start prepping for supplies as well as starting a fire. We need to get them warm.”

   _On it,_ Coram replied.

   “I’m sorry about this,” Cullen softly apologized sliding his arms under the injured woman.

   Holding a torch high, Leliana was waiting for them at the opening of the cavern they had set camp up in. Her face dropped the moment she Cullen and Dorian. Cassandra looked lifeless and Owein was back in his wolf form. “Maker.”

   “Is a tent ready?” Cullen demanded panting from the effort of drudging through the thick snow.

   Coram dived down in his hawk form before landing effortlessly in human form next to the Spymaster. “Both Dorian and Solas are waiting. We have put blazers outside a tent for heat.”

   Cullen’s amber gaze flashed to Leliana finding her unfazed. “You knew?”

   “I could sense something was different about him,” Leliana replied after a quick glance at the elf. “As I did with Owein. Coram was a bit more forthcoming.”

   Huffing, Cullen tucked his questions away for later. “Come we need to get them warm. Even if we heal them, if we don’t get their body temperature up, they won’t survive.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

    Owein awoke cursing and swinging trying to dislodge whatever was causing the fiery pain radiating up his left side. He was fairly certain if he was up to full strength one of his blows would’ve caught Coram square in the jar. “Son of a bitch!”

   “Stay still a little longer,” Dorian gently commanded. “I’ve been trying to heal you for two days now, but you’ve been resisting.”

   “T-two days?” Owein echoed between gritted teeth falling weakly back onto a pile of furs. “Where are we?”

   “Deep win in the Frostback Mountains.” Dorian held a vial to the Herald’s chapped lips. “Drink. We’ve been traveling, putting as much distance we can between us and what is left of Haven. We’ve sent out scouts and thankfully some have answered our call for aid, supplying us with oxen, carts, furs, and such to shelter us.”

   Drinking the potion, Owein’s mottled mind tried to sort through his jumbled memories. The attack. Corypheus. The pain. He touched the bandaged taped over his left eyes. Remembered the searing pain as that monster dragged its talon across his face simply for the pleasure He remembered-. “Cassandra.” He tried to sup up once again only to be held down by his fellow mage. “Where is Cassandra? Dorian, tell-.”

   “Calm, my friend. She’s right there.” Dorian nodded to his left where the Seeker laid motionless under a mountain of furs, pale as death. “She lost a large amount of blood. Broke more than three ribs and shattered her left shoulder. Lots of internal injuries, but we’ve healed her.”

   Owein pushed Dorian’s hands away, rolled, only to stop, clutching the furs to his waist. “Why am I naked?”

    “Clothes were frozen stiff and you needed to get warm since you lost all your fur. Nice trick by the way.” Since he knew he couldn’t keep the Herald contained anymore, Dorian helped the man sit up. “Both of your bodies temperatures was dangerously low. I can only conclude yours bounced back because you’re a fire mage. Cassandra isn’t as lucky it seems.”

   “What are you saying?”

   Dorian’s features fell. “With the blood loss and all her injuries, I don’t think she can hold out much longer.”

   “You said you healed her.”

   “Yes, but I can’t make her body nor temperature recuperate. No magic can,” Dorian explained.

   “No! No!” Owein struggled to keep himself from breaking into a million pieces. He couldn’t lose her. Maker, he should’ve forced her to flee with the others. Then she wouldn’t have taken a devastating blow meant for him. Trudged through miles of snow where she took on a pack of wolves because he was far too weak to defend himself.

    _She would’ve hated you for it._

   Astrid’s words didn’t provide Owein much comfort. “What can we do? Is there a potion of some sort? An herb?”  

   “I can’t bring her around to take anything.”

   “Have you’ve forgotten the basics of living in the woods so quickly, _deartháir?”_ Ducking under the flap of the tent, Coram knelt inside handing Dorian new vials of potions.

   Owein glared at the elf. “What are you going on about?”

   “The quickest way to regenerate body heat out in the cold is skin to skin contact under some furs,” Coram reminded. “I believe you learned that the hard way after you fell through some ice.”

   “Right,” Owein muttered to himself.

   “I’m glad to see you up, _deartháir._ Do you require anything else, Dorian?” Coram asked the Tevinter mage. “Cullen wants me to scout ahead again to give us some more intel on where we should head next.”

   “He knows?” Owein looked back and forth between the two males. “Everyone knows?”

   “Kind of hard to keep your secret when Bull carted you through camp in your wolf form,” Dorian stated. “If you fear the people’s reactions, don’t. They are in awe and grateful for your return.”

   Owein would think of that later. “Give me the potions.” Working through his stiff muscles, Owein crossed the short distance to Cassandra’s pallet, furs fastened securely around his waist. “And leave us.”

   Dorian placed the vials on the ground next to them. “I will feed the braziers we have set up outside to help with the warmth. I’ll come check on you in a bit. There is a washbowl by your pallet.”

   “Thank you. Both of you.”

   Dorian squeezed Owein’s shoulder. “I’ll see what I can do about finding you both some clothes.” And with that, Dorian followed Coram out of the tent. He prayed, which was something he rarely did, that this wouldn’t be a repeat of the future Alexius subjected them too. This time if Cassandra died there was no turning back the clock.

   Conjuring a small ball of fire, Owein suspended two of them in the air to help heat up the tent. With his good eye, he could see Cassandra’s face still was covered in a bit of blood and grim left from battle. Owein took a damp cloth from the washbowl to tenderly bathe her skin. It was far too cold to his liking. How long were they out in that damn blizzard?

   “I’m so sorry,” He whispered sweeping the cloth down her neck to her shoulder. His mind was far too occupied with worry for her wellbeing to register that fact the Seeker laid completely naked beneath the layers of fur. Right now, Owein wanted to wipe away the traces of blood, to assure himself that Dorian healed her properly. “I should have never allowed you to put your safety before mine. You have to stay with me, do you understand? I can’t-can’t lose you. Not again.”

    As if sensing his warmth, Cassandra let out a low hum, turning her head to meet his touch.

   Owein’s heart twisted in his chest. “Cassandra?”

   She made another noise, but nothing more.

   Quickly, he traded the cloth for one of the healing drafts Dorian left behind. Coating the tips of his fingers with the potion, he gently ran them over her chapped, split lips. They parted ever so slightly, allowing a few drops to pass between them. “That’s it, _leannan.”_ He repeated the process. “Take what you need.”

   “Owein.” His name was barely a whisper.

   “Right here, my lady.” Owein felt her shift, even if she was still unconscious, drawn to the heat he naturally produced, to help replenish what her body was in desperate need of. After getting half the potion down, he traded the vial for the cloth and continued to clean her skin the best he could. There was a vast amount of bruising and fresh scars to go with old ones, but everything with the exception of some shallow cuts were all healed. Content in one aspect, he rolled her carefully onto her side and slid down next to her beneath the pile of furs. He held her close until there wasn’t a breath between them. “I’ve got you and I’m not letting you go. No matter what you say or do, you’re stuck with me.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o

    Surfacing from the darkness of the Fade, Cassandra was surprised to find herself engulfed in a blanket of warmth. Her last memory had been of falling into the snow next to Owein to keep Cullen from attacking. Slowly, it registered she was housed in a small tent, stark naked beneath a thick pile of furs, wrapped up in the warmth and protection of Owein’s arms, who was equally as naked. Perhaps finding herself in such a compromising situation should cause her some distress and a massive amount of embarrassment. Instead, Cassandra was content right where she was. Where ever that might be at the moment.

   As if he sensed her change of state, Owein opened his eyes. “Cassandra?”

   The corner of her mouth lifted. “Expecting something else, my wolf?”

   “Thank the Gods!” Hand on her cheek, Owein pressed a kiss to her brow, relief flowing through him at finding it farm warmer than before. “I was starting to fear the worst. You lost so much blood and your body temperature-.”

   Leaning into his touch, Cassandra kissed the center of his marked palm. “Worried, were you?”

   “Of course. Damn it, Cassandra.” Owein dipped his head until their lips brushed. “Dorian wasn’t sure if you’d pull through. I already watched you die once. I couldn’t go through that again.”

    “I’m not going anywhere, Owein,” She softly assured indulging in another tender kiss. “I told you at Val Royeaux that I couldn’t walk away from you.” Her hand drifted down, settling over his heart. “Of what this is between us.”

   Tears blurred his vision. “Rest, _M’annschd._ You still need to recovery. Your body temperature is still low.”

   She stroked a thumb carefully along the edge of the bandage covering his eye. “Stay with me.”

   He brushed his lips over her temple as he tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder, bringing her bare breasts flush with his skin. There was no power he possessed to keep his body from reacting. Not after countless nights of dreaming of having her in his arms, naked. Only, he envisioned vastly different circumstances. “For as long as you allow me to. Seems like you’re stuck with me.”

    A dreamy smile crossed her still pale face. “Won’t hear a complaint from me.”

   “ _Codladh, Mo iarrthóir_ ,” He whispered breathing in her scent as they both drifted off into the Fade.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

   Owein knew he was dreaming this time around. Instead of being surrounded by white ice, he found himself entwined with the Seeker in the Meadows he had spent many days daydreaming while adjusting to the life with the Dalish. Or race Coram seeing who could get through the clearing faster on the ground or in the air.

   This time around he was doing something far more enjoyable. Cassandra, skin like fire, was perched above him, mouth hot and hungry as they worked against his. He was drowning in her and Owein was perfectly fine if he never surfaced again. As long as he went out with the taste of her on his lips and the feel of her calloused hands on his skin.

   Gripping her hips, Owein urged her to rock against him. A groan slipped from his throat as her slick heat drenched his hardened arousal. It didn’t matter. Here in the meadow nothing or no one could find them.

   “ _Déantóir.”_ Owein, far too wrapped up in her, to put any effort in speaking common.

   “Owein.” Her hot breath hit his ear before she nipped at its lobe. “My wolf. Open your eyes. I need to see you.”

    “Cassandra.”

   Her lips trailed down her throat, sinking her teeth into the tender flesh of his shoulder to muffle her cry of pleasure as he buckled sharply against her. “Please, my wolf. I need you.”

    Heart hammering in her throat, Owein opened his eyes and quickly realized that this was no dream. Cassandra, furs bunched around her hips, was seat atop of him, breast bare and aching to be touched. “Cass, _mo iarrthóir._ ” He resisted the primal urge to drive himself deep into her dripping heat. There was a fire burning in his veins to quench the thirst he had for Cassandra, but the last thing he wanted to do was rush this moment. “Shit. I can’t… Are you sure?”

   Cassandra slammed her lips to his, grinding hard against him until one of his hands slid up to tangle in the short strands of her hair while the other held her in place, encouraging her to continue. “I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you.” And in truth, it had terrified her those first few days as it was unexpected and the last thing she needed at the time. Then she watched him clasped after closing his first rift in the Hinterlands and her heart nearly lept from her throat.

   “I-I… You said…”

   “I was wrong.” Cassandra bit sharply at his bottom lip. “Maker, I’ve never been so wrong in my entire life. I was foolish. I nearly lost you.”

   “You didn’t. We made it. Together.” Sitting up, Owein trailed his hand from her hip, between the valley of her breast, to cup her scarred cheek.  “Together, Cassandra. Something has been drawing us together and, but the Gods and your Maker, there isn’t a power on earth that can pull us apart. _M’annschd.”_

“Owein, please.” Cassandra pressed her mouth to his, her cries of pleasure muffled as he dragged her down the hardened length of his cock.  Filled to the brim, connected, she met his copper gaze and they shined with complete admiration. For the first time what felt like forever, everything felt right, even for a moment. Swamped with emotions she couldn’t quite place or understand, Cassandra nuzzle his cheek and simply basked in the feel of him. Of them. Maker, was this how it was truly supposed to feel? There was so much heat pumping through her veins and she prayed it never went away.

   “Cassandra.” He kept his voice low not knowing how close their tent was to others. This was their moment.

   Lips curving into a wicked smile, Cassandra’s fingers curled into his hair as she moved, lifting herself only to slid sharply back down. Each time, his eyes darkened and a growl began to build in the back of his throat. A primal sound. One that sent shivers over delight down her spine.

   Arm tight around her waist, Owein crushed her to him, hips moving feverishly to keep up with the pace Cassandra was setting. Slow and gentle would come later. Now, they were simply desperate to for fill the need to be with one another. To remind themselves that they were alive. They were together.

   He rubbed the whiskers of his beard along the tops of her breasts, feeling the grip on his hair tighten, urging him to take. And he happily obliged, filling her mouth with a perk nipple. Her not so soft sound of pleasure nearly sent Owein tumbling over the edge overwhelmed by the sheer need for her, he fought off his release. It would be a journey they would take together.

   Cassandra, burning from both inside and out, latched clung to him, nails raking over his flesh. His entire body was taut, his touch desperate. “Owein.” His name fell from her lips almost like a prayer. Her release coiled until it broke leaving her begging, “Don’t hold back.”

   Snarling, Owein rolled them off the pallet until he was poised above her. He snapped his hips hard and fast into her quivering heat. Control gone now, he drew her head back. “That’s it, _M’annschd._ Look at me. I need…. Need…” the words tangled in his throat.

   Hands cradling his face, Cassandra understood what he was searching for. Still, in the throes of her own release, she forced her heavy lids to remain open. And thank the Maker she did or wouldn’t have been pleased with the most beautiful sight of him falling apart.

   Never once had Owein ever felt such perfection. Satisfaction. Completeness. Emotions coursing through him, he buried his face in her throat, lapping at her racing pulse as they rocked lazily together enjoying the haze of the aftermath of their lovemaking.

   “Owein, what in…” Dorian froze halfway through the tent flap. “Oh. I see.”

   Far too last in Owein’s touch, Cassandra couldn’t find it to be embarrassed. “Need something, Dorian?”

   The Tevinter mage actually stumbled over his words. “I was coming to check if you had awoken when I heard what I thought were noises of distress. I’m pleased to see you’ve recovered, Seeker. When you two are finished, I would like to check you over to make sure your wounds have all healed. For now, enjoy each other.”

   “Don’t worry, we will.”

   Owein chuckled against her skin as Dorian left.

   “What?” Cassandra asked laughing “It’s true.”

   “Cassandra.” HE trailed his lips along her jaw until their mouths tangled together. “ _M’annschd.”_

She brushed a strand of sweat-soaked hair from his brow. “What does that mean?”

   Easing up, Owein caressed her scarred cheek. “My blessing.”

   She felt the heat creep up her neck. “Oh.”

   “You once asked why I was at the Conclave and I spoke of a seer who told me I would find something I’ve been seeking all my life.”

   “I remember.”

   “She spoke of a blessing,” Owein figured there was no reason to hide what Astrid told him. “In the form of a warrior. A woman who would help heal the wounds on my heart left by the ones I once called family. A woman that would fill my soul with warmth. A woman who would accept my magic, my gifts, and stand by my side.”

   “Proudly.” Cassandra brushed a tender kiss across his brow.

   A hint of discomfort snaked up his spine when the tips of her fingers brushed the bandage over his eye. Despite Corypheus’s best effort, his eye survived, but he feared what type of scar laid beneath. “Even now?”

   “You’re alive,” She reminded carefully peeling away the bandage. There was a long-jagged scar scorching from his brow, through his eye, stopping at the cheekbone. The skin was still bright red as the healing was fresh. In the time it would fade, but the mangled flesh would remain. “That’s all that matters.”

   A smile slowly crossed his face. “You’re right.” It was his turn to brush over one of the healing lacerations under her right eye. “We’re alive.”

   She playfully nipped at his lips. “Can we move back onto the pallet? It wasn’t that comfortable, but it has to be better than the cold, hard ground.”

   “Oh! Right.” Owein felt a profound sense of loss the moment he withdrew from the Seeker. He had been with a handful of women in his lifetime, but nothing ever felt quite like this. Earth shattering. Heart stopping. Carefully, he hooked an arm around her waist and shifted them back to the pallet. She pressed herself as tightly as she could against him leaving Owein to forgo grabbing a fur sense her skin no longer felt like ice. “Cassandra.”

    The tone in his voice had her tilting her head back. “Why do you sound like you’re about to apologize?”

   “Only for these.” He brushed his lips over the love bite he left at the base of her throat. “I got a bit carried away.”

    A soft laugh slipped past her kiss swollen lips. “Only if I had a mirror.” She skimmed the tips of her fingers over the many bruises she left in the wake of her passion to keep herself from altering the entire camp to what was transpiring in the tent. “At least people will know who you belong to.”

    “Such a she-wolf,” Owein chuckled burying his face into the crook of her neck.

   “You have no idea, my love.”

   “By the Gods, is it any wonder I want you again.” His stated body was already stirring.

   Fingers tangling in his hair, Cassandra’s back arched off the pallet, hips pressing into his seeking fingers. She was already soaking wet with need for him. Maker, the want for his touch, his lips, his taste was almost overwhelming. Her other sexual experience paled in comparison to what was coursing through her veins. “Then what are you waiting for?”

   “Dorian pacing outside the tent.”

   “What?” Cassandra asked trying to pull herself from her lust filled haze.

   “Wolf hearing,” Owein explained. “I would very much like to make sure you’re okay before I properly worship you.”

    She arched a brow. “Properly?”

    Now, he nibbled at her bottom lip. “As much as I enjoyed our first time, I had dreamed of us being able to take our time with one another.”

   “Dreamed?”

   “For far longer than I can truly put into words.” He smiled into the kiss. “Be warned, _iarrthóir._ I have plans to act out each and every single one of those dreams.”

   “Andraste’s mercy.”

   Grabbing a fur, he carefully covered Cassandra’s naked frame before wrapping one around his waist to hide his hardened arousal. “I’m going to get Dorian.”

   “Bastard.”

   He took a moment to place a hand to her cheek, his touch gentle. “I almost lost you, Cassandra. I need to know that you are well.”

    Turning her head, she placed a kiss to the center of her palm. “Then hurry, my wolf.”

 

 

 

 _deartháir-_ brother

 _leannan_ \- sweetheart

 _M’annschd-_ my blessing

_Codladh, Mo iarrthóir- Sleep, my Seeker_

_Déantóir-_ Maker

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know it's not great when an author says they don't like something they wrote, but I am not happy with this but I also have been having the worst case of writer's block in the world! I wanted their first time to be more sensual to focus more on the instant connection between them that runs deep, but also can find solace that they were desperate with relief that they were alive and finally together. Sorry if this didn't meet people's expectations. Hopefully, this writer's block will lift full soon


	14. Find the Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly working my way through my writer's block. Meaning really that I keep writing scenes that come after them getting to Skyhold which makes me write backward from there so hopefully, I will start updating a bit more once I get to that part.

   Getting Dorian, led to being given fresh and warm clothes which the mage forced him into before ushering him out of the tent in order to examine the Seeker without distraction. Owein tried to protest but found it useless to argue with Dorian, especially when he told Owein there was much unrest amongst, not only the people but the advisors as well. Duty had Owein clasping a cloak around his shoulders and leaving the promise to properly worship Cassandra for later.

   “You’re up,” Coram stated making across the camp to greet the Herald with a one-armed hug. He held a tin cup full of steaming hot broth in his other hand which he promptly pushed into Owein’s. “It’s not much but you haven’t put anything in your stomach in almost three days.”

   Feeling the rogue’s gaze latching on to his face, Owein bowed his head to take a long sip. “Thanks.” He knew people would stare and he’d just have to get used to it since no amount of healing would make the scar fade. Hopefully, in time, the natural color of his eye would return and if not, he would just adapt. Just like he had to start orientating himself to being able to see out of one eye. Simply walking, Owein felt off-balanced.

   “I see your _Iarrthóir_ has a bite to match yours,” Coram teased.

    A grin crossed Owein’s face. “Sound a bit jealous there, Coram.” He was beyond grateful Coram chose to comment on the love marks and not his freshly disfigured eye.

   Coram bumbled his shoulder gently against Owein’s. “A bit,” He softly admitted doing his best to keep his gaze from wandering to the people around them. “I must say, you look far happier than one should after dripping a mountain on your head.”

   “Happy to be alive.” Owein’s head tilted towards the tent. “That we both are.”

   “By those mars on your throat, I take it Cassandra’s body temperature bounced back.”

   Owein nodded. “Dorian is checking her over to ensure her wounds are healing.” Taking another sip of the broth, he scanned the tried faces of all those who were lucky enough to escape the destruction of Haven. “How many?”

   Coram’s expression sobered. “Still too early to tell. There are stragglers and others are risking it by setting out on their own.”

    Owein’s head snapped up. The jerk movement left him unstable and grasping Coram’s shoulder to remain upright. “People are leaving?”

   “Can you blame them, Owein? The home they knew for the past eight months is gone. Destroyed by an advisory no one truly understands. With you held up in that tent, many thought us telling them you were alive was merely a ploy to boost morale.” Coram helped steady the mage. “As much as you’ve earned a bit of rest and alone time with your _Iarrthóir,_ being out and about will get the people to trust your advisors again.”

   “Has a plan been made on what to do next?”

   The rogue frowned. “Your advisors seem to be at odds which isn’t helping settle the survivors’ nerves.”

   “Mother of the light.” Owein scrubbed a hand over his tired face. “Why did I even think for a moment that closing the breach would be simple? Do we have any idea of who or what this Corypheus even is?”

   “Cullen does,” Coram answered. “He’s been struggling to accept the magister’s reappearance.”

   “Reappearance?”

   “Go ask him.”

   Owen handed over the now empty cup back to Coram. “Fine.” While making his way to where the Commander was hunched over a hand-drawn map spread out atop of a barrel, Owein made sure to return the people’s greeting and indulged them in short conversation. The people’s spirits were low and if they didn’t do something soon, more would flee into the mountains where Owein was sure they would meet their death due to either cold or hunger.

   Shifting so he could see the parchment better with his good eye, Owein studied the amazingly detailed map. From what he could gather, the map was the of the area of the Frostback they were surrounded by. “Who do we have to thank for having this in their back pocket?”

   “Coram, actually. Not only does his little trick give him a bird’s eyes view, but he’s also a talented drawer,” Cullen replied.

   Owein made a slight disgruntled noise.

   “I’m sure your form has its own benefits.” Cullen straightened, his gaze lingering briefly on the mage’s scar and now disfigured eye before drifting downward. The corner of his mouth curved. “I see that Cassandra has recovered.”

   Heat crept into Owein’s cheeks. “Still has some mending to do.”

   “I’m pleased to see you up and about as well.” Cullen fiddled with the edge of the parchment. “We seem to be at odds on what to do. Here to go. How to handle this drastic change of events.”

   “Coram stated you know about this Corypheus.”

   Cullen rubbed his furrowed brow. “IT’s a complicated story. The short version is someone was trying to assassinate any living Hawke. So naturally, Olivia and her younger brother Carver set out to investigate who wanted them dead. They discovered some crazed dwarfs along with a Grey Warden driven mad by the calling.” He tried to keep his emotions in check. Talking about Hawke along with this particular experience wasn’t something he liked to do. “Turns out some Grey Wardens used Malcolm Hawke’s, Hawke’s father and a mage mind you, to reinforce a magical seal of a prison.”

   Owein arched a brow. “Hawke’s father was a blood mage?”

   “No. Malcolm Hawke was anything but a willing participant until one of the Wardens threatened his wife’s life. To save her, Malcolm agreed and this imprisoned Corypheus.”

   “These Wardens that Olivia found wanted to unleash him?”

   “One did. The other was mad from Corypheus’ influence and the one thought if they could control Corypheus, they could use him as a weapon.

   That left a sour taste in Owein’s mouth. “And people thing Mages are the only ones subject to corruption.”

   “Hawke, Olivia,” Cullen clarified. “Broke the seal in order to kill the Tevinter Magister and sadly that Warden tried to stop her. Things settled down. No more crazed warden with Corypheus’ death. Or at least we thought he was dead.”

   “She told you all this?” Owein asked trying to remember how Varric wrote about the Commander and Hawke’s relationship. “Hawke.”

   Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “We may have not gotten off on the right foot when we first met.”

   “You being a Templar and her a mage?”

   “Something like that,” The Commander muttered. “But eventually we found…” Cullen took a moment to find the right words. “Trust and common ground to stand on.”  

    Owein found that he had many questions centered around what that common ground was, but focused on the matter at hand. “What does that mean the creature walks amongst us once more?”

   “I wish I knew.”

   “Is that a map?”

   Cassandra’s voice had Owein turning. Dorian found her some warm clothes as well that were a tad tight which clearly caused the Seeker discomfort as it pressed harshly against her still healing body. He frowned at the improvised sling Dorian made with a leather belt, embolizing her sword warm. Shattered, Owein recalled along with Dorian’s reassurance the shoulder was healed.

    “Don’t fret, Owein,” Cassandra whispered when her lover began to frown. “Precaution and to me from moving it too much so not to cause permanent damage.”

   Owein felt guilt start to seep in. “But you didn’t-.”

   “I’m fine,” Cassandra cut him off stepping around the barrel to look down at the hand drawn map. “Coram’s handy work?”

   Cullen nodded. “He’s only been able to scout out about a says journey to the North and East. Since we came from the south there is no need to cover that direction. There is no sunlight left so he will try west in the morning.”

   “I take it by your tone, nothing to note have been found?” Cassandra softly asked.

   “Give up now?” There was a bit of heat to Cassandra’s voice now.

   Knowing things were about to escalate, Owein excused himself. “I’m going to talk to some of the people. Assure them I’m truly alive.” He held up a hand before either could argue. “Right now, that’s how I can help most while you guys talk things through.”

   Cullen shot him a look that called the Herald out on his cowardness.

   Owein shrugged and walked away. Maybe it was, but he knew that with his skin still humming from Cassandra’s touch there was no way he could trust himself to make sound and objectified decisions. Something he defiantly had to work on, he silently mused. Setting down on the ground with his back propped up against a large tent pole. He gave the people around the fire the best smile he could muster, happily accepting another cup of broth from a haggard looking boy that couldn’t be more than nine winters.

   “What is your name?” Cullen asked.

    “Eiran,” He answered sitting next to him. “Da says you’re a human raised by the Dalish. It’s how you learned to shapeshift since he says that’s not taught in the circle. Is it true?”

   “That it is, _buachaill._ ” Owein found it liberating he no longer had to fight his brain to always speak in common. Along with the satisfaction he was able to get Eiran’s tired face to light up by using the ancient language. “I did spend some time in the Ostwick circle.”

   “Did they treat you badly?”

   The question caught Owein off guard. “Not too terribly. Most days.”

   “Mother spoke of her time in the circle in the South Reach. She said it was awful. Da helped her escape and they ran away together.”

   “He was a Templar?”

   Eiran nodded. “He joined the order believing he was to help mages learn to control their magic, but quickly learned they did more harm than good.” He took a sip from his own cup. “Mother came into her magic at five and spent her entire life in the circle. When Da was assigned, they took one look at each other and knew they were meant to be together.”

   Owein’s gaze drifted momentarily to Cassandra. “The Dalish believe that everyone has someone out there that has a part of their soul and when you find the person who has it, the connection, the draw to one another, is instantaneous. Soulmates,” Owein explained further seeing understanding settle in the boy’s pale blue eyes.

   “then does it cause immense pain if you lose your soul mate?” Eiran softly asked.

   “There is always bound to be pain when you lose someone you love. Soulmate or not.”

   “Da hasn’t been the same since mother died. He tries his hardest to hide it, to be strong for me, but there are times the pain of the loss overwhelms him.” Eiran looked over her shoulder to where his father stood with a group of men around another fire. “He worries I will inherit her gifts. The only thing that gives him a bit of relieve is that the circles are no more.”

   At least her father didn’t see magic as a curse or Eiran as a protentional abomination. Owein wished his father thought so kindly about his ‘gifts’. “When did you lose her?”

   “The explosion at the Conclave. Da was in Haven while I was in South Reach with my grandparents.” The loss, so fresh, flooded his voice. “Once the Inquisition was declared, he joined because they were the only ones willing to do anything about the explosion and the Breach. I begged him to let me come to Haven.”

   And now it was gone. Owein swept his gaze around camp, studying the weary and tired faces. “Will you two be returning to the South Reach?”

   The boy shook his head. “You faced the threat to save our lives even know it meant to cost of yours. Yet, here you are. Da believes Andraste has further plans for you and the Inquisition.”

   Owein didn’t have the heart to contradict him. Andraste had no part in his survival. It was Cassandra’s protection and sheer dumb luck he walked away from the destruction. He decided to change to subject. “tell me of your mother, _Buachaill_.”

   Owein hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep or knew when Eiran left his side until he heard the four Inquisition members going at it very loudly and with heat behind every word spoken. Blinking the sleep from his gaze, he turned to see Cullen and Cassandra toe to toe, nose to nose, brother red faced from arguing.

   “What would you have me tell them?” Cullen harshly demanded. “This isn’t what we asked them to do.”

   “We can’t simply ignore this!” Cassandra shot back. Even from the distance, Owein could see the fire in his lover’s eyes. “We must find a way!”

   “And who put you in charge?” The Commander mockingly asked. “We need a consensus or we have nothing.”

   Josephine stepped forward trying to keep the two warriors from drawing their swords which they seemed to be on the verge of doing so. “Please, we must use reason. Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we are harbored.”

    “It can’t come for nowhere,” Cullen countered.

   Leliana joined the argument. “She didn’t say it could.”

   “Enough!” Cassandra screamed pushing Cullen back. “This is going nowhere.”

   The Commander threw up his hands. “At least we are agreed on that much.”

   “You need to rest, your worship,” Mother’s Gisele’s voice had Owein jolting as she joined him next to the dying fire.

   Owein bit back his need to correct her. He had asked repeatedly for her not to call him that but to no avail. “They’ve been going at it for a while now.”

    “They have that luxury, thanks to you. The enemy could not follow and with time to doubt we turn to blame.” Her gaze shifted to the arguing advisors that started to separate to cool off for the time being. “In fighting may threaten us as much as this Corypheus.”

   “Do we know where he or his army of red Templars are?”

   “We can’t even be sure where we are. We just took to the mountains for cover, which is why we do not know where he is. Or that, he believes you are dead.”

   In truth, Owein felt like possibly he was the way it ached down to the bones. He looked at Cassandra who braced her arm against the barrel to look down at the map though her eyes were so distant he knew she wasn’t actually studying it. She must be in immense pain as well even if an ounce of it didn’t show on her face. “Well, yelling isn’t going to help. It’s only going to cause more unrest amongst tired people.”

   “Another heated voice won’t help.” Mother Gisele showered her wisdom in the truth of the statement. “Our leaders struggle because of what we endured. We saw our defender, a man willing to give his life, and fall. Now we have seen him return. It seems now that our trails are ordained. It’s hard to accept, no? What we have been called to endure. What perhaps we must come to believe?”

   “I didn’t die.” Owein didn’t hesitate to correct the Mother. With Eiran, it was a bit harder since the boy already looked like he was about to shatter from the experience of having to flee from an approaching army that had a dragon and a Tevinter Magister at their side. “Luck was all it was. We barely walked away with our lives. There was nothing special about it or me or this blasted mark on my hand. I’m simply a man trying to find justice in such a broken world while addressing the Breach while everyone else buried their heads in the sand.”

   “Of course.” The mother agreed, “But the people know what they saw or perhaps what they needed to see. Can we truly know the heavens are not with us?”

   Feeling a headache starting to form, Owein pressed a finger to his good eye. He wasn’t raised by traditional means in terms of faith. Yes, he followed the Chantry and their laws in the short time with his family and of course at the Circle. The Dalish didn’t force their beliefs or Gods on him, but that didn’t mean he ignored the Dalish faith or didn’t agree with their way of thinking over the Chantry’s. “It doesn’t matter what I believe because faith isn’t going to change that Corypheus is a real physical threat. We can’t defeat him with faith and hope.”

   To get away from the conversation, Owein pushed himself onto his tired limbs intending to try to bring his advisors back together but faltered before he could get very far. They looked more broken then the people around them. Leliana and Josephine had separated, now sitting on the frozen Earth. Cullen was pacing back and forth, rubbing the back of his neck, face hardened and exhausted. Cassandra, his Seeker, was still hunched over the map. Owein couldn’t tell if she was angry with Cullen and his reasonings or at herself for losing control when having it was something she always prided herself on.

    Mother Gisele lifted her voice in song, raising in the silent air and echoing throughout the camp. Owein jerked around, nearly losing his balance at the sudden movement, watching the Mother start to move towards the middle of the camp. To his astonishment, people started to join in after the first verse, their voices joining Mother Gisele’s growing louder as they became united. Even Cullen stopped his pacing, face bathed in new emotions as he sang along with the song Owein vaguely remembered hearing as a boy. What was the woman playing at? The question remained in his head for the time being since the once down trotted became hopeful once more. Not only in him but the Inquisition as well.

    The singing stopped and Mother Gisele looked at him. “An army needs more than an enemy to fight. It needs a cause.”

   Owein could only nod.

   “Needs hope. Those two things are the most powerful weapons a person can have.” And with that, Mother Gisele melted into the crowd that gathered to express their hope by singing.

    “Herald.”

    Owein’s attention shifted to Solas. The elf looked at him a bit strangely than before and Owein wondered if that had anything to do with the fact he hid his Dalish upbringing. Solas was a very proud elf and never tried to change or hid his heritage or being a mage. “Do you need something?”

   “A moment of your time.”

   “Is something the matter?”

   “I’ve been thinking about the attack,” Solas answered leading the Herald to the outskirts of the camp. “Coram told me about the attack and how Corypheus carried an orb. One I believe to be elven in origin.”

   “Oh?”

 “Corypheus used the orb to open the breach, unlocking it must have caused the explosion at the Conclave.”

   Owein simply stared at Solas wondering how the elf knew what caused the explosion. Why hadn’t he said something before now? Did that mean Solas was hiding more from them? And if so, why?

   “I’ve seen this magic in the fade, old memories of older magic,” Solas answered almost as if he read Owein’s thoughts. “He might think it Tevinter, but he built his magic on the bones of my people. I know you are human, but given the recent knowledge of your unusual upbringing, it must bother you some that Corypheus is using my people’s magic and it threatens this alliance.”

   “Of course, it does,” Owein quickly answered. He flexed his left hand where pain still lingered from Corypheus’ attempt to steal the anchor back. “Whatever he might think he is, Corypheus is a new threat that we must stop. Sadly, I don’t have the answers on what to do next.”

   “Scout to the North.”

   “Cullen has done that with Coram’s assistance.”

   “We must push further north, deeper into the mountains,” Solas insisted. “There is a place that awaits a force to hold it. There is a place where the Inquisition can build. Grow. It’s called Skyhold.”

   “How much farther north?”

   “I cannot say.”

   Owein rubbed his face. “Does this place even exist?”

   “I have not laid eyes upon it myself, but have seen it.”

   “Seen it?” Owein echoed.

   “Living with the Dalish you must know about Fade walking.”

   “Yes, but Fade walking doesn’t always show the person what is real. They show memories,” Owein countered. “Are you telling me that I’m going to ask these people who lost everything, more than once, to follow me even further into the cold in hopes to find a place that might not even be standing anymore.”

   “Faith and hope,” Solas reminded the Herald of Mother Gisele’s words.

    After mulling over the elf’s words for a bit, Owein found Cullen and Cassandra peacefully looking over the map, having bounded together to reunite after Mother Gisele’s display. Going to Denerim was the safest option, but that also would surely mean the end of the Inquisition. If the people of Thedas saw them in their current state, they would lose what little support they currently had. “We need to head north.” His voice had both Warrior’s looking up at him in bewilderment. “Right now, we have a bit of an advantage with Corypheus thinking me dead and the Inquisition in shambles. It’s the perfect opportunity to find a place to heal and regroup.”

    Cullen traced his finger over the line near the top of the map. “There is nothing within a day’s journey from our current position. If we venture further into the mountains, we risk becoming lost and trapped by the terrain. If we want to make it back to one of the major cities we need to head out of the valley.”

   Owein took a calming breath. “I know it’s a lot to ask you or anyone here to trust me, but we need to do just that. I know it’s dangerous and it will only bring danger, but in the deepest part of the mountains we will find a place that has been lost to the ages.”

   “If it was lost to the ages, then how do we know it exists?” Cassandra wondered.

   “Solas, he… Well, it’s hard to explain,” Owein muttered mostly to himself.

   “Try,” Cullen countered.

   “He’s seen it,” Owein answered.

   Fury settled in Cassandra’s shoulders. “He’s let us flap in the wind these past three days when he knew there was a safe place together.”

   “Well, it has only seen it in the fade,” Owein softly corrected.

   Cullen threw up his hands. “That’s just great.”

   “I know it’s a lot to ask. To take another leap of faith after everything we just went through, but I believe him. Don’t we owe it to the lives that we lost? To them.” Owein pointed to the people of the camp. At that moment, he couldn’t help but think of Eiran and his story. “To take this leap? To ensure all their sacrifice wasn’t in vain by rebuilding the Inquisition instead of leaving it in ruins.”

   Cullen exchanged a wordless glance with the Seeker before nodding. “That we do. If you think this is where we should go, then let’s do it.” He reached over to clasp a hand over Owein’s shoulder. “I’ve learned by now that my trust in you isn’t misplaced. So, on your order, Trevelyan.”

    Owein was staggered by the intensity in the former Templar’s words. The cosmos must be having a good laugh at the fact the man was putting his complete trust and faith in a mage. “Dawn is around the corner. Coram can scout in the air while I go on foot to ensure the route is clear to bring the people through.”

   “Two or four?” Cullen jokingly asked.

    Owein let out a small laugh. “I can cover more ground with four.”

   “Alone?” Cassandra asked.

    “Well, ah, umm…” Cullen delicately sidestepped around the Seeker and started towards a tent. “If we are to move out, I shall try to get a bit of sleep. We will break the news when the sun is up.”

    Now it was Owein’s turn to give a look that shouted coward as the Commander left him alone with a very displeased looking Cassandra. “I’ll be with Coram.” That bit of information brought no comfort to his lover. “You’re injured.”

   Cassandra glanced down at the arm strapped to her body. “Precaution.”

   “You’re in pain and don’t try to argue. I can see it, though you’re during a pretty damn good job at masking it.” Guilt settled back in Owein’s gut. “I’m sure our activity only aggravated it and you were too stubborn to say anything.”

   She arched a brow. “Complaining, Herald?”

   “No, but you can help ease my worry by staying back.” He held up a hand before Cassandra could argue. “If only for a day. I know I’m asking a lot of you seeing how you were willing to die at my side in the face of Corypheus. I’m not questioning your will, but simply asking you to think about your wellbeing for once.”

   “I don’t like it.”

   Laughing, Owein carefully pulled her against him. “Of that, I have no doubt.” He brushed a kiss along her bruised temple. “Did I just win an argument?”

   “Don’t let it get around.”

   Was it any wonder Owein was crazy about this woman? “Lips are sealed. C’mon.” He steered them away from the map. “Let us sit by the fire and get a little rest.”

   “I do believe you promised me something earlier.”

   “Of course, _M’annschd_.” Owein grinned down at her. “Sadly, the little time we have isn’t even a fraction of what I need to properly fulfill that promise.”

   “I’m going to you to that.”

   “I would expect nothing less from you.”

  

 

Iarrthóir- Seeker

 _Buachaill-_ Lad

 _M’annschd -_ my blessing


	15. Nightmares

   His hand. By the Creator, it hurt. Stumbling through the snow, Owein clutched his left wrist, balling his fingers to trap the sparking anchor. That did very little to shield anything, even himself. The searing pain rushing up his arm cut him off the knees. He had to getaway. It was the only to keep the others safe. If he couldn’t control the mark, he risked their lives. There was no telling hat the blighted thing could do now that Corypheus altered it.

   “You always were an abomination.” A voice, deep and filled with disgust, echoed throughout the night.

   Head spinning, Owein crumbled to the frozen earth. Terror, something different from what he experienced from being pinned under the half-God Magister, worked its way up his spine. “You’re not here,” He hissed, screwing his eyes shut. “You’re not real.”

   The sinister voice chuckled. “I should’ve killed you the day your magic manifested. It would have saved the world so much trouble. Your reek of death, boy.”

   Tears burned in the back of Owein’s throat. He could drum up a valid argument. The nightmarish manifestation of his father wasn’t wrong. He nearly brunt down the family estate with everyone inside. At the circle, though caught in the crossfire, was apart of over the death of twenty mages and a handful of Templars. His time with the Dalish was not without bloodshed. Ever since falling out of the Fade, there was a long tail of dead left in his wake where ever he went. Haven was destroyed. Innocents lives lost.

   “And for no other reason than believing in you.” His gather’s voice crew closet the mark burned hotter as he picked at the thoughts swirling in Owein’s head. “They should’ve looked at you and your magic and run. Instead, they believed in the foolish notion that not all those that wield magic are dangerous. Monsters.”

   “I am not a monster.” Falling forward onto his hands, Owein cried out in the night, breath rolling out in uneven sobs. He wasn’t six winters old anymore. Owein refused to be terrified by this man any longer. “That’s you, father.”

   “And where do you think you inherited from, my boy? You re my blood after all.”

   Shaking his head, Owein fought through the blinding tears. Though the haunting words. “I don’t beat and rape the woman you were meant to love. Beat children for doing nothing more than existing. There is blood on my hands.” Owein looked up at the wisp in the shape of the man he hated with every fiber of his being. “None of it’s been in cold blood. You killed mother. drove her to take her own life. Just like you did Maddie.”

   The wisp hissed. “My blood flows in your veins. My anger, my hatred. You’ve tried to bury it all your life, always being kind and understand. All of it is a façade.”

   “I am not you.”

   “But your control is slipping,” His father taunted. “You murdered that Magister.”

   “He was a monster,” Owen sobbed, curling his left hand in the snow. The pain was intensifying more and more. His strength was weaning. “You killed mother. You killed my sister.”

   “You did. As she had the same sickness as you. She tried to hide it. Suppress it, you killed her and your bother. Now you will continue my legacy. Continue the bloodshed.”

   “I am nothing like you!”

   “Owein.” Another voice broke through the noise and pain driving the wisp back. “Owein, can you hear me?”

   The herald felt himself being lifted from the frozen earth. “Cass?” Yes, the Seeker. His warrior. She would help him fight the ugliness. Together they could face anything The Maker through at them. Owein clung to the arm wrapped around his middle, burying his face in the crook of her elbow. He wasn’t his father. He would never hurt the woman he loved. Never.

   “Give it time,” His father’s voice hissed in his ear. “The Blackness, corruption, is in you.”                                                                                                

   Shifting, Cassandra sat in the snow, hugging the squirming mage in her arms as he continued to cry out in disappear and anguish. The sparking of the anchor concerned her greatly. The thing was nearly out of control. Owein mentioned he felt it change in response to Corypheus’ attempt to take it, but seeing it so unstable scarred her down to the bone. Pushing it from her mind, momentarily, Cassandra feathered her fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. “Owein, wake up,” She pleaded doing her best to keep her voice level. “My wolf, please open your eyes. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

   Owein returned to a coherent state of mind on a strangled breath. Trembling, he found himself surrounded by trees, snow, and darkness. There was no sign of Inquisition patrols or camp. Only other life was the woman holding him. “Wh-where -what happened?”

   “You were having a nightmare.” Cassandra brushed her lips along his temple. “Feel my breathing, Owein. Match yours to mine.”

   Owein struggled at first but managed to bring his gasping breaths to small shallow ones. The rise and fall of her best, the breath on his ear and the sound of her voice cast a blanket of calmness over Owein, wrapping around him tightly, settling the crackling of the mark.

   “That’s it,” She cooed watching the main start to seep from his contorted features. With each passing moment, the sparking erupting form the mark began to tapper and almost quiet. Even so, it caused the Herald considerable amount of discomfort. “Nice and steady.”

   “Where am I?”

   Cassandra’s heart sank at the sheer confusion in his voice. “You were slumbering against a tree near the edge of camp when you took off in a panic. You kept Fade Stepping and I lost you in the dark. Then Coram heard you cry out.”

   Perched on a limb above their heads, Coram, in his hawk form, let out a low whistle letting Cassandra know he was there to help in any way.

   She pressed her lips to his sweaty brow and jolted. “Maker’s breath, you’re freezing.” Cassandra never felt him so cold to the touch before. Even after fighting tirelessly in the snow and being blasted down an ice cavern, his body temperature never seemed to drop. “C’mon. We need to get you warm. I need to get you back to camp.”

   Panic squeezed Owein by the throat. “No. No.” He weakly tied to escape the Seeker’s grasp. “It’s too dangerous. I can’t… I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

   “That’s absurd, Owein.”

   With his father’s words in his head and the magic of the mark churning in his blood, Owein continued to argue. “Please, Cass. Please. I’m not him. I’m not him, but I still don’t trust myself. Not at the moment.”

   “Now who?” Cassandra shifted, hand slipping to cup his scruffy cheek. “What are you talking about?”

   Copper eyes sought her dark ones in sheer desperation to ground himself. “I’m not him, Cassandra. I’m not. I would never hurt you.” He curled his fingers into the shoulder of her thermal tunic. “When I first saw you, I felt my splintered soul snap back together.”

   Dipping her head, Cassandra brushed her lips over his chapped ones, coaxing him into a sense of calmness with each gentle kiss. “I know you wouldn’t, my wolf. I have nothing to fear from you as you have nothing to fear from me.” She brushed a few lone tears from his cheek. “I need to get you warm.”

   Shifting forms, Coram landed silently down beside them. He carefully took Owein by the shoulder. “Listen to your _iarrthóir,_ Owein. Whatever just happened has drained you of your mana and magic. You’re cold and for a fire mage, that’s not good.”

   Owein hugged his left arm against his body, twisting it away from the other two. “Not back to camp,” He softly pleaded. He would either hurt someone or have them see him fight the demons of his past.

   Cassandra met him halfway. “At least let’s get a bit closer.” She helped the mage sit up in the snow. “Coram, can you help him move? I’m going to run for a ten and a bedroll. Maybe gather some wood for a fire.”

   Coram helped his friend remain upright. “Get the supplies, food, and some water. We’ll manage the fire.”

   Pausing a moment, Cassandra lifted a gloved hand to his nearly frozen cheek. “I’ll be right back?”

   “Promise?” Owein asked sounding like a small and frightened child.

   She pressed her brow to his, lips meeting once more. “You have my word.” Her gaze flickered to the rogue. “Take care of him.”

   “With my life,” Coram vowed.

   The moment Cullen caught sight of the Seeker, he rushed around the perimeter of the camp, intercepting her before she could fully enter. The wild look on her face would only serve to strike panic among those few still awake. Especially, if they’d seen Owein take off in the manner he did. “Cass.” He took her firmly by the shoulder while his fingers curled under her chin to lift her gaze. “Cassandra?”

   “He’s okay,” She quickly assured. Sagging forward, Cassandra dropped her head to his chest. “He’s okay.”

   Cullen ran a soothing hand along her back. “Night terror?”

   “Something like that.”

   “Redcliff again?”

   “Not this time. Whatever he saw has left him in almost hysterical state.” Absorbing her friend’s comfort, Cassandra shifted back. “When I found him, Maker, the mark. It was out of control. Worse than before and it pained him greatly.”

   Cullen’s brow furrowed. “Should I go wake Solas?”

   “Not just yet.” Cassandra was sure that Owein would only allow a select few to see him such a state. The more people involved the increase change the others around camp discovering their savior was breaking would only undercut the morale boost the found last night. “I need to get him warm and calm first. His experience has left him completely drained of his magic.”

   “I wasn’t aware the mark could do that.”

   “Neither did I. Owein said he felt the anchor change after his encounter with Corypheus.” Cassandra mentally pulled herself together. Strong and level headed. That’s who she was and had to continue to be regardless of her affection for the Herald. “This may be only a small insight into those changes. We’ll talk to Solas in the morning.”

   “How can I help?”

   It was far easier to find Owein this time around thanks to the glow of the fire Coram managed to light. They were position far away enough from camp to not be out of the protection of centuries and patrols, but safe enough from anyone from camp stumbling upon them. With Cullen in tow, Cassandra dropped her supplies near the fire and rushed to Owein’s side. The mage, propped up against the thick trunk of a tree, seemed paler than she left him. “Owein.”

   Head lolling to the side, Owein flashed a smile or as close as he could muster. “Here to warm my up, _m’ghaiscíoch_?”

   She returned his smile making sure it was genuine to help ease her lover’s discomfort. “In a moment, my wolf.” Cassandra fished a vial from a pouch on her hip. Shielding Cullen from the view while the Commander worked with Corm to set up the tent, she uncorked it and slid a hand up to cup the back of his head. “Down the hatch.”

   “Wh-.”

   “Lyrium,” She whispered. “To help replenish your magic since you’re in no condition to go running around all fours and howl at the moon.”

   “I do not howl at the moon,” Owein weakly argued before downing the vial in one gulp. He found it curious that Cassandra hastily threw the empty glass in the fire before feverishly wiping her hands in the snow. Limbs no longer feeling like lead, he pressed his thumb to the crease in the Seeker’s brow. “I’m okay. Bad dream.”

   Taking his hand, she placed a kiss in the center of his palm. “They don’t usually manifest into hallucinations.”

   “Anyone tell you that you worry too much.”

   “A time or two. How is the Mark?”

   Begrudgingly, Owein unraveled his fingers of his left hand. While the Mark no longer sparked, the jagged green line glowed hot and bright. “I would tell you it doesn’t hurt but that would be a lie and I never want to lie to you.” Now it was his turn for his brow to crease. “If the others see it acting this way-.”

   Cassandra cut him off. “Got you covered.” She slipped pack from her shoulder and drew out a bandage. “This will do until we can find you some replacement gloves. Hold out your hand.”

   “I don’t know if you should touch it. I don’t want to hurt you.”

   “You’re incapable of hurting me, Owein.” To prove her point, she clasped her hand over his marked one. While she braced for the pain, nothing happened. Owein visibly relaxed at the revelation. “Let me take care of you.”

   “If you insist.” Tired, Owein watched her carefully wrap the bandage his hand. The bright glow of the anchor was almost nonexistent. Too bad it was a mere façade. He thought back to Corypheus’ displeasure upon realizing that he couldn’t extract the anchor. Now that it changed, Owein had to once again navigate life with the blasted thin. Waking nightmares only seemed like the beginning.

   “Tent is up.” Cullen tossed in a fur and bedroll inside. “If you keep the flap open, you’ll warm up in no time.”

   “Especially if you repeat the other night,” Coram snickered, dodging a clump of snow Cassandra half-heartedly through in his direction.

   Kneeling down next to the Herald, Cullen faulted the moment he smelt the lingering traces of Lyrium. Thankfully, Owein was far too out o it to notice, but Cassandra was vigilant as ever. “Let’s get you up and inside.” He wrapped an arm around Owein’s waist and lifted.

   Owein grinned. “Going to warm me up, Cullen?”

   “I think Cassandra has that covered.”

   “Well, if you ask nicely, you can join,” Cassandra teased dragging in a pack of supplies inside after the two men.

   Despite being bone-tired, Owein laughed.

   Joining in, Cullen eased the mage onto the bedroll. “I’ll pass. After all, you need rest.”

   “We’ll gather some wood to set you up for the night.” Coram exchanged a quick glance with Owein. “Won’t be far if you need anything.”

   Crawling in after Owein, Cassandra positioned herself against the support pole before urging him to lay his head down on her lap. She began to brush the snow and dirt from his hair using her fingers. “You want to talk about it?”

   Owein sighed, pressing into her tender touch. “Would you hate me if I said no?”

   “Never.” She assured. “I won’t push you, but it might help if you do.”

   “I know.”

   “Who were you seeing? Corypheus?”

   “That would’ve been less terrifying.”

   “Oh?”

   “I saw my father.”

   “Oh,” Cassandra repeated. “I’ve never heard you talk of him.”

   “Not much to say really. He was an outright monster. I haven’t seen him since the day he tossed me to the Templars.”

   “What about the rest of your family?” Cassandra had tried on several occasions to get Owein to open up on the subject matter and always failed. Besides a small tidbit that slipped past his guard, she only knew he had a sibling or two and harbored a great hatred for his father.

   It would be easy to dismiss the question knowing Cassandra wouldn’t push on the matter. But Owein found himself answering, eager to dispel the heaviness weighing on his chest. Desperate to disassociate himself from his father’s haunting words. “My brothers and my sister, twin to be exact, visited me twice in my time at the circle. I don’t know what possessed them to do so.”

   “Perhaps it was simply because they cared?”

   Owein shrugged.

   “Have you attempted to contact them since the explosion?”

   “No,” Owein whispered gazing flickering to the flames of the small campfire. “Thomas is most likely doing his best to live up to our father’s impossibly high expectations and failing miserably. Arthur was disowned for some reason or another.”

   “Your sister?”

   “Dead.” Pain flooded his voice as tears threatened to fall. Since settling in with the Dalish, Owein did his best never to think of his family, but Maddie always slipped by his defenses. “She took her own life when she was only sixteen winters. Apparently, our father was forcing her to marry a man twice her age and thought it was the only solution.”

   Cassandra cupped his stubbly cheek. “I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

   “That’s my father for you.” Laying his hand over hers, Owein soaked up her warmth. Let her touch ground him before the darkness swept him away. “He did the same thing to my mother. The sad thing was, after all the terrible thing he did to her, she loved him. He only married her because it strengthened his power. Children to ensure a legacy. There wasn’t a kind bone in his body.”

   Cassandra remained silent, stroking his damp hair, sensing if she did Owein would stumble and shit him off from not on the memory, but her as well.

   Owein barely recognized the sound of his own voice as he continued. “He never loved anyone besides himself. Hated his children as much as he did his wife, never being faithful to her.” He dug his fingers into the furs she pulled around his shoulders. The simple kindness nearly had Owein dissolving into tears. “My magic manifested the day my mother took her life. My father told me that she slit her own wrist and kept rambling on how much of a coward she was, how pathetic. I didn’t realize I was crying until he started screaming at me. He trained us never to do so. Here I am, drowning in grief, and my bastard of a father starts beating me. Maddie walks in and he goes after her-.”

   “And you used magic to defend her,” Cassandra softly finished when Owein faltered.

   “I nearly burnt the estate down. I gave my sister deep burns.”

   “You didn’t mean to, Owein.” Turning his face, Cassandra gazed down at him. The demons of his nightmare mixed with his past swirled in his copper eyes, breaking her heart. Since the day they met, Owein was always a cheery man despite the circumstance threw him into. Always in control. Always solid. To see him like this left Cassandra desperate to help him put himself back together. “You are not your father.”

   “His blood is in me.”

   “That’s the nightmare talking.”

   “It doesn’t negate the fact that part of him is in me. His genetic code runs through my veins.” Owein pushed himself up into a sitting position, gripping her wrist for dear life. “It’s only a matter of time before I become him. I-.”

   Cassandra gave him a firm shake. “Will never become him. He might be your father, but you are nothing like him. You are a compassionate, loving, joyous man, Owein. You have the right to hate the world and watch it plunge itself into madness. Instead, you’re risking your life to keep Thedas from splintering. You were willing to give it up for those souls in Haven.”

   “But-.”

   “You once told me a good man is defined by their actions. His actions are how own. They’re not yours. They’ll never be yours.”

   “I just want to be a good person,” he softly whispered dropping his brow to hers. “Despite being branded an abomination, I want to do good.”

   “And you are, Owein. My wolf.” She heard him release a weighted breath, felt the tension slip from his touch. “Don’t start doubting yourself now.”

   “I’m sorry,” He softly apologized dropping his heavy head to her shoulder. The feel of her fingers running along his scalp soothed him to the point his taut muscles began to loosen. Spent from the nightmare, Owein could no longer bear is own weight, happily laying out next to her on the bedroll. “I’m sorry, Cass.”

   “None of that. Rest,” Cassandra whispered resting her brow against hers. He wasn’t fast enough to mask his terror at the thought of going back into the Fade. “It’s okay, Owein. I’m right here. No harm will come to you.”

   The corner of his mouth lifted. “My own white night.”

   “We protect each other.”

   “I like the sound of that.”

   A smile bloomed across her face. “So do I.”

   Knowing it would lighten the mood and ease the lingering discomfort of the nightmare, Owein couldn’t help but tease. “Just don’t let it get around, right?”

   It did the trick. Her laughter filled the small tent. “Exactly.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

    Owein woke sometime before dawn with the spot beside him empty, but could still feel the Seeker’s warmth lingering. Groggy, he rolled and found his once heavy heart filled with emotions. Cassandra sat right in front of the tent, stroking the small fire, head bent and talking softly to Coram. If he was in his wolf form, Owein would know exactly what they were talking about, but sadly it didn’t carry over to his human form. He didn’t need to know what they were saying to know that it was about him. The concern on his lover’s face left him breathless. Outside of Coram, even with the rest of the Dalish, no one really cared for him in such a capacity. Women he had spent time didn’t hold a candle to Cassandra Pentagsht.

   “Was this normal?” Cassandra whispered. “I mean I know it wasn’t, but the topic. Did he have many nightmares during his time with the Dalish?”

    Frowning, Coram placed the small pot of porridge he went back to the main camp for. “When he first joined us, while he was still healing, they were bad. I think the fire of the circle kicked up the memories of what got him sent to the circle in the first place. My _mathair_ was the clan’s healer and took Owein in when he was still gravely injured. At first, he wouldn’t speak to anyone. I think he wanted to die.”

   Cassandra found tears burning in the back of her throat. She had her own opinions on the circles, the Templars, and Chantry’s treatment of mages. While Cassandra believed that mages needed to be watched and guided until they fully learn to control their magic, she didn’t agree with the oppression they suffered for something they were born with. “Because he believed himself to be an abomination that his family thought him to be.” She rubbed a hand over her aching heart. “But he didn’t even cause the upheaval at the circle. He was literally caught in the middle of something that started long before he arrived.”

   Coram jerked his head back to the tent. “Try telling him that.”

   “But you made him see his magic differently,” Cassandra stated. “That it was something to be honed. To be respected.”

   “More my mother’s doing, really. I just kept him company while he was healing from his injuries.”

   “You did more than that.” Reaching over, Cassandra touched her hand to the rogue’s. “You became his family when he desperately needed one. While the others of your clan may have accepted a shem’s presence within the camp, you accepted him wholeheartedly. Magic and all.”

   “He became my brother,” Coram proudly stated. “We elves don’t really have siblings as smaller numbers meant easier to migrate from place to place. It was clear that he didn’t have an easy life. I could see it in his eyes. He tried to hide it with his cheerful and brightness, but you can see the ghost beneath the shimmer.”

   Cassandra nodded in agreement. Owein kept himself in control most of the time, always being upbeat and trying to find the silver lining in almost everything. She thought to that day in Redcliff when he blasted the wall mere inches from Fiona. Remembered the heat, the sorrow in his copper gaze, the rage in his ticking jaw.

   “You’re good from him, you know.” Coram’s words broke up Cassandra’s thoughts. He watched pleasure flood her usual harden features making him smile in approval. “He was happy with the clan, but something was missing. A place. A purpose. You gave him those.”

   She waved the notion away with a flick of her wrist. “I did no such thing. Fate threw him out of the Fade and into this mess.”

   “Aye, that might be true, but you shouldn’t dismiss the impact you’ve had on him, _Iarrthóir._ You helped him find the purpose he never found out in the wild. You challenge and push him to be more.” Coram flashed her a quick smile. “We Dalish believe in soulmate or friends, _anam cara_ as we call it. We believe that we are born incomplete, that the Gods created the missing piece in another person for us to find through all the trials of life. Our souls recognize them instantly, but sometimes the heart and head have to catch up before they realize it. They make you want to be a better person.”

   “I care for him, Coram.” Cassandra wished she had the word to explain how much she felt for Owein Trevelyan. “I felt that connect you talk about and nearly lost my chance because I put duty first like I always do. I know now that what we have isn’t a weakness, but a strength. One of the greatest Andraste has given us. I don’t plan on pushing it away again.”

   “Good.” Coram squeezed her hand. “He’s going to need a solid foundation to get through the days ahead.”

   “He’s got more than me. The Inquisition, as dysfunctional as we all may be, is a family.” She returned his smile with one of her own.  You’re part of it too now, Coram. I know that you have your clan and beliefs, but I hope you know there is room for you here.”

   “Thank you, _Iarrthóir._ It’s nice to help make my own mark on the world. To do good. To show the world that not all elves hate shems. My _bràthair_ is a lucky man to have a warrior like you by his side.”

 

_Iarrthóir- Seeker_

_m’ghaiscíoch- my warrior._

_Mathair- mother_

Bràthair- brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. I fell down some metal stairs and let me tell you that hurt like a mother. I'm also having trouble writing this story and I hate trying to throw out chapters because they seemed forced and leaves me frustrated. Hopefully, you guys enjoyed this chapter and will continue to stay tuned.


	16. Inquisitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short but I wanted to get this out as I have a few more chapters waiting.

   Finding Skyhold proved to be the easy part. The Keep, protected within the Frostback Mountains, had been left in disrepair and required lots of work to bring it back to life. Then there was the lack of food. The injured and those falling sick from the continuing rough conditions. Forgetting the outside world, the Inquisition focused on itself.

   Repairs were happening around the clock, desperately trying to make some habitable space for the people who were set up in tents and bedrolls in the courtyard. Emissaries were sent out with armed guards for both protection and to ensure their tracks were covered from Corypheus’s agents. There were daily hunting parties dispatched, makeshift storerooms made up to preserve the meat, and a clinic taking over the unused stables.

   Life and hope seeped back into the tattered order with each passing day.

   Nearly three weeks after settling, Owein was crowned leader of the Inquisition in front of his companions, soldiers, and supporters. He wanted to refuse the moment he figured out what Cassandra had in mind. He was mage, raised, for all intensive purpose, by the Dalish. Two things most people held the greatest prejudices against. With him taking up the title, support for their cause would dry up, leaving them stranded amongst the chaos of Thedas.

   Yet, somehow, between Cassandra’s assurance and the people’s enthusiasm, Owein found himself taking the sword, title, and heavy responsibility it came with. He would lead them with a strong mind and empathic heart. Owein vowed to all of them as he held up the sword, he would be an example of good in hopes others would take notice and follow. To show his magic wasn’t evil.

   And, if Owein was being honest with himself, distance himself from the tarnished name of Trevelyan caused by his father’s actions.

   The Keep celebrated, spirited lifted once again, and Owein swallowed his discomfort, allowing them to stop him over and over to express their support. Their gratitude for everything he’d done since falling out of the fade. For saving them in Haven.

   Sometime before evening meal, it all became too much causing Owein to flee from the celebration. He rooted around the hallways, still many unnavigated, until he was sure no one would find him, slid down to the ground and finally relinquished his hold on the massive sword of the old Inquisition.

   The sound of steel clanking against the cobblestone echoed throughout the passage.

   Anxiety spiking to an almost unbearable level, Owein yanked off the bandage from his hand that he wore every day since his waking nightmare in the woods. Green light illuminated the dimly lit area as the mark churned, feeding off his emotions.

   What in the Blight was he doing? Leading such a vast organization to save Thedas. What did he know of being a leader? He was oppressed at the circle and overlooked for being a shem with the Dalish. Owein followed orders. Never gave them. Lives were in his hands, more so than before. Their fates now hinged on his words and actions. If he wasn’t careful, Owein could watch Skyhold go up in flames just like Haven. Cullen had explained that, while they were more fortified here, the mountains left them with no chance to retreat.

   “Is it hurting?”

   Jolting at the sound of the Seeker’s voice, Owein struggled to reapply the bandage. “A bit,” He confessed doing his best to honor his vow to never lie to her on such matters. “How’d you find me?”

   “I’m a Seeker, remember,” Cassandra stated sitting down next to him. She offered him a sly smile. “I was actually down here already. There is a library I found a few days ago when exploring.”

   Owein didn’t break his concentration on his task, which he was failing miserably at.

   “Let me?” Reaching up, Cassandra waited for consent. “Or I can go if that’s what you want.”

   Owein sighed, offering his hand. “That’s the last thing I want.” He watched her expertly affix the bandage around his hand, covering the glowing mark. “You’re making a mistake, Cassandra.”

   She arched a brow. “I am?”

   “In making me the Inquisitor.”

   “It wasn’t just me, Owein.” Taking his hand, she pressed it against her cheek. “it was a group decision and we all came to the same conclusion.”

   “All of you? Even Cullen?”

   “That surprises you? You two have become friends, have you not?”

   “Well, yes.” Owein averted his gaze. “I am a mage.”

   “And Cullen respect you.” Cassandra's eyes darkened. “You’re doing him a discredit to your friendship thinking like that.”

   Ashamed, Owein hunched his shoulders.

   “Believe it or not, Owein. You’ve been leading the Inquisition for quite some time.”

   “I think you’re confusing our roles, _M’eudail,”_ He softly argued. “You’re the one who made sure the Divine’s final wishes were brought to life. You pushed the men, helped those in desperate need-.”

   Cassandra silenced him with a firm kiss. “Once again, you've discredited your own actions. You’ve been the voice of reason, the guiding light for the Inquisition and its people. And not because of this.” Sensing his thoughts, she turned his left hand over where the green light pulsed beneath the bandage. “This is simply a weapon, Owein. A means to close the rift, but that’s not why people follow you. It’s your compassion, wit, and the ability to see good when others won’t. You sacrifice, putting your life on the line day after day to protect. They follow you because, even with your faults, you’re a good man through and through.”

   Sighing, Owein leaned his brow against hers. “I don’t want to mess up.”

   “There is no avoid that.” Her gaze caught his, fingers stroking along his scruffy jaw. “Everyone stumbles and fails from time to time. The trick is to pick yourself back up and keep moving forward. You are surrounded by so many that will fail with you and help gather the pieces.”

   “Then we’ll do this together.”

   “Where ever you lead us,” She echoed her words she spoke on the Keep stairs.

   The corner of his mouth lifted. “You sure about that? Who knows where we’ll end up.”

   “C’mon.” Standing, Cassandra tugged Owein to his feet. There was something oddly arousing about how their height difference forced Owen to crowd down or she had to titled her head back to look at him. “I’ve secured a loft above the forge. Given all the celebrating, I’m sure it’s completely empty.”

   Owein allowed her to tug him down the hall. “The sword.”

   “I don’t think it’s going anywhere.”

   Cassandra was completely breathless by the time they hit the landing of the stairs as Owein’s hands were anything but idle during their journey beneath the Keep’s hallways. Her space above the forge consisted of a bedroll, lantern, and a few books, but it was all she needed.

   Snagging her by the waist, Owein crushed her against his chest, eyes blown wide with need. “ _Tabhair do bhéal,_ _M’annschd.”_

Cassandra clung to his shoulders. “What does that mean?”

   This voice was thick as he answered. “Kiss me.” Lifting her onto the tips of her toes, Owein claimed her lips in a searing kiss that burned all the way to the soles of his feet. They hadn’t had much time alone since their body heating session. A few stolen moments after work of the day was settled but always hurried. Owein had promised to properly worship her and it was about time he fulfilled it.

   Hitching her legs around his waist, Owein pressed her against the wall, fingers already working the buttons of her tunic and elated that she ditched her armor sometime since their announcement on the Keep steps. He ignored her desperate touch, slowing the kiss until she whimpered and writhed against him, clearly wanting more. “Slow, _M’eudail.”_ He eased the tunic from her shoulders trailing open mouth kissed along her left collarbone. “We were in such a rush before I didn’t get the chance to take in all the finer details.”

   Cassandra curled her fingers in the thick mane of his hair. “I’ve never been known for my patients.”

   A wolfish grin flashed across his face, hand skimming down her side. “I’ll make it worth it.”

   “Actions speak far more than words,” She pointed out.

   “Right you are.” Tugging off her breast band, he propped her up against the wall, using his weight to keep her firmly in place. Freeing both hands to begin his worshiping. He didn’t leave a single patch of skin untouched. Memorizing every curve, dip, and scars with both lips and fingers.

   Cassandra couldn’t help but flinch the moment his hand slid along the heavily scarred skin above her hip from the wolf attack. A warrior’s body wasn’t usually one to be marveled at, branded and full of imperfection after a life on the battlefield. Suddenly shy, she tried to free herself from his hold, but he didn’t budge. “Owein.”

   “Cassandra, _M’eudail,_ look at me.” He softly demanded.

   Lifting her gaze, she found his copper one blazing and overflowing with affection. Her breath caught in her throat at the intensity of the look.

   “You’re so beautiful, Cass. These.” He stroked the disfigured skin. “Are badges of honor. You should never be ashamed of them.”

   Cassandra ran a trembling finger along the scar cutting through his brow. After a large amount of healing and care, vision had turned, though not as sharp as before, but the jagged scar and blemish of his eye remained. “Same for you, my wolf.”

   Owein shifted, kneeling in front of the bedroll to lay her down. “I never thanked you for saving my life.” Bending, he ran his lips over the swell of her hip.

   “We protect each other,” Cassandra whispered threading her fingers through his hair once more.

   After working the ties of her leathers, Owein eased them down her long, muscular legs. “Allow me to thank you, anyways.” He gently nipped at the inside of her thigh, running his fingers over her damp folds.

   “Ah, well.” Feeling his hot breath against her center, Cassandra struggled to think. “I think I can suffer through it.”

   “I don’t make you suffer,” He chuckled. “But I’ll make you beg.”

   In the end, she did more than beg. Cassandra screamed, yielding to the mercy of the Inquisitor’s touch as he brought her to the brink over and over. She was nothing more than a quivering heap by the time he slid over her, naked now, mouth taking hers in a ruthless kiss. Cassandra groaned at her taste lingering on his swollen lips, sparking life back into her liquified limbs.

   “Now, Owein,” She found herself begging once again. “Please.”

   “ _Mar is mian leat.”_ Lifting her hips, Owein filled her, sinking slowly into her welcoming heat. He lost his gentleness, setting a frantic pace as the roaring of his blood couldn’t be ignored any longer. Linking fingers, he pressed their joint hands above her head. “ _Le chéile anois, mo ghrá.”_

Having no clue exactly what he was saying, Cassandra found his mouth with hers, letting herself be swept away.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

   Basking in the warmth of the aftermath of their lovemaking, Owein nuzzled his cheek over her hair. He enjoyed the way her sword calloused fingers made random patterns along his chest, the warmth of the touch filling his already overflowing heart. “Does the door downstairs lock?”

   Cassandra smiled. “Why?”

   “Because I have you all to myself for the first time in weeks and have no intention of letting you until at least morning meal.”

   Shifting, she leaned herself over him, mouth teasing his. “Is that so?”

   He cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb along the jagged scar. “You’ve awakened something inside me, Cassandra. Something that has been always waiting for you.” Owein deepened the kiss, drawing a low groan from the Seeker, stirring his body all over again. “I have a need for you. One that only seems to grow with each passing day. By the Gods, woman, I barely have my breath back and I want you again.”

   Seeing every inch of his heart etched into his face should be overwhelming at the very least. Cassandra found herself elated, sinking into his taste once more. The need for him, not only in the physical sense, was something she’d been fighting for day one, but longing for all the while. She prided herself on never needing a man in her life, always relying on no one but herself. With Owein, Cassandra didn’t mind his crowding as he respected her enough to know where the line was and still care for her while other men would find his hard-headedness off-putting.

   _Anam cara._ That’s what Coram called them, this connection, and Cassandra, not one to give into others customs, found herself willing to do anything to keep it.

   Drawing away, she touched a hand to his lightly stubbly cheek. “You’ve done the same for me, Owein. I’ve been waiting for you and I didn’t even know.” Cassandra basked in the brightness of his unguarded smile. “I will fight for this, for you, Owein Trevelyan. My wolf.”

   “Cassandra,” His voice was saturated with emotions.

   “I will not let Corypheus win. I will not allow him to take you from me.”

   “Together,” Owein echoed her earlier words, bringing her against him. “Together we can see this through, Cassandra. I’m not letting him or anyone for that matter take you from me either.”

   “You up there, Inquisitor?”

   Varric’s voice jolted the pair part and had Owein scrambling for the nearby blanket. “Don’t come up here, Varric.”

   “Believe me, I have no desire to see you and the Seeker dancing in the sheets, fluffy.”

   Owein groaned. “I think I liked Greenie better.”

   “I am simply looking for a moment of your time,” Varric explained from the floor below. “But I would dare interrupt your solitude. Find me at morning meal if you can peel yourself away from the Seeker for that long.”

   “That’s a hard task,” Owein called back gently nipping at the warrior’s shoulder. “She’s quite irritable.”

   “Bah! I don’t want to hear it!” Varric cried. “You two have to take a break at some point, find me then, okay!”

   A grin crossed Owein’s face. “That sounds like a challenge.”

   “I’m going! I’ll lock the door behind me so you won’t have to worry about any more interruptions.”

   Owein waited until he heard the door shut below them before laughing. “Maybe I should give into Josephine’s nagging about the room above the main hall she cleaned out for me. It would give us some privacy.”

   “Does it have a bed?”

   “As of yesterday, I believe so.”

   “Then why are we here on a hard bedroll?” Cassandra wondered drawing another laugh from her lover.

   “I’m sure I can go get the key-.”

   “No.” Straddling his hips, Cassandra kept him in place with a hand to his chest. “We’ll make our way there tomorrow. Tonight, I like you just fine right where you are.”

   “Is that so?”

   “Very much.”

   “I’m here to please you, _Iarrthóir.”_

Mar is mian leat- As you wish

Le chéile anois, mo ghrá- Together now, my love.”

  


	17. Meeting the Champion

   “All right, Varric.” It took two more days before he could carve out time to meet Varric. Sadly Cassandra had very little to do with that. His days seemed to be filled with endless War Councils that usually consisted of arguing and a headache. “I’m here.”

   Varric looked up from the bottle of wine he’d been starring down. “Thanks for coming.”

   “Why are we up here?” Owein asked.

   “Because I needed privacy for a meeting long time coming.”

   Owein’s head jerked around to face the approaching footsteps. His eyes rounded in astonishment. “Hawke, I presume?”

   The olive-skinned woman smiled. “You must be the wolf I’ve heard so much about.”

   Owein shot Varric a look. “You realize that Cassandra is going to tear you to shreds, right?”

   “I know. I know,” Varric waved the thought away. “You’ll just have to use your charm to convince her to leave parts of me intact.”

   Owein huffed. “I think you underestimate the amount of charm I have.” He looked back to the female mage. She was tall, slender, carried a powerful aurora about her that as a testament to not only the magic inside her but all the shit she’d come out on top of over the years. Still, there was a hint of something, a darkness, reflecting in her pale green eyes. One that made Owein’s heartache for the woman. “Owein Trevelyan.”

   “Olivia Hawke,” She introduced herself. “Varric has told me some great things about you and this Inquisition. I just had to come to check it out for myself. Nice digs, by the way.”

   “I’m sure you know that the Inquisition has been looking for you for quite some time,” Owein stated. “You could’ve come ‘checked it out’ long before now.”

   Olivia’s smile faltered for a moment but quickly pushed past whatever discomfort she was experiencing. “I had my reasons for dodging this Seeker of yours. Until recently, I’ve had quite the sizeable bounty on my head. Enough for a person to retire off.”

   The Inquisitor arched a brow. “Those don’t simply go away.”

   “They do if the sponsor isn’t around to pay it.” Olivia gestured to the green glow streaking across the man’s palm. “Plus, this situation gripping Thedas has those that want my head occupied for the moment. It's true, isn’t it? Corypheus is back?”

   “If you mean the Tevinter mage, ranting about the Black City, hell bent on destroying the world and ushering in a new era with him as a God, then yes.” Owein watched Olivia leaned heavily against the parapets, pale green eyes distant and full of anguish. “A little birdy told me that you faced him once before.”

    Olivia ran a hand over her frayed braid. “And killed him. Or so we thought,” She softly muttered mostly to herself. “How much has Varric told you about our run in?”

   “Everything,” Varric quickly interjected almost as if he didn’t want Owein to answer. “The Wardens, your bloodline, all of it. Including how we sent the bastard to the fade.”

   “Only he didn’t stay there,” Owein added.

   “But how?” Olivia lifted her gaze back to the Inquisitor.

   “We aren’t all that sure, to be honest.” Owein folded his arms over his chest. “I was hoping you’d be able to shed some light on that particular question. We’ve been researching from the moment we settled in Skyhold, but so far nothing. I imagine it’s going to take some time, so any insight you could give on how to deal with the bastard would be quite helpful.”

   She rubbed a hand over her tired face. “You’ve dropped a mountain on its head. Not sure what more I can offer that can top that.”

   A growl caught in the back of Owein’s throat. “I would very much appreciate it if you give it your best shot.”

   “How long do we have before your Seeker gets back?”

   “We have a bit of time,” Owein assured leaning against the parapets beside the Champion. “Start talking.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

  “Well, if I’ve answered what questions you might have had, for the time being, it might be best if I disappear.” Hawke casted a sideways glance at the dwarf. “For Varric’s sake before this terrifying Seeker of yours catches me.”

   Owein shook his head. “Properly wise. Where will you be going? In case I have more questions or is Crestwood the next time I’ll see you?”

   “I found a good spot to camp out on my way here. Had to take the scenic route to dodge your scouts.”

   “I’m quite uncomfortable with the fact you were able to do so in the first place,” Owein softly muttered. If Hawke could that mean so could one of Corypheus’ agents. There was already a risk with the number of pilgrims that seemed to arrive daily now that the word was spreading that the Inquisition didn’t perish in Haven.

    Sensing his frame of mind, Hawke gently squeezed her fellow mage’s shoulder. “Once I know this Seeker of yours won’t toss me off the battlement, I’ll help you and the Commander of your forces find the weak spots in your patrols. I’ve been in hiding for well over two years, mind you, so I’ve become very adept at finding them.”

   “You shouldn’t worry about being thrown off the battlements.” Owein thought to the morning he caught his warrior reading ‘The Tale of the Champion’ by the frozen lake back in Haven. “ _An troich,_  on the other hand....”

   “Er... Um... Well,” Stammering, Varric ran a hand over his hair, giving his ponytail a nervous tug. “About our Commander.”

   Owein caught himself before he could frown. He didn’t like the tone of the rogue’s voice. “I know the two have history, but judging by your own book, Varric, they didn’t seem at too great of odds. Do you think there will be a problem?”

   “Ohhh! Someone from my past is it?” Hawke searched the courtyard below. “Sadly, saying we didn’t get along doesn’t exactly narrow the list. I racked up a rather long one during my time in Kirkwall.”

    Noting that Varric suddenly became incredibly anxious and not going to fill in the blanks for the woman, Owein took it upon himself. “It’s the former Knight Captain of Kirkwall. Cu-.”

   “Cullen! Cullen is here?” Hawke whirled around, a storm of emotions brewing in her pale green eyes. “Varric?”

   The storyteller simply nodded.

   “Where is he?” She demanded on a shaky breath.

   Owein pointed to the tower down the battlement. “He spends so much time in his office, he claimed the loft above.” He struggled to decipher exactly what Hawke was feeling or thinking in regards to the news Cullen was in Skyhold. “I take it you two parted on less than amicable terms?”

   Ignoring the Inquisitor’s question, Hawke loomed over the dwarf. “Does he know I’m here? That I’m alive?”

   The ice shards forming on the woman’s fingertips had Varric back-peddling until he backed himself into a corner. “With the price on your head after the explosion and the Seeker’s snooping, I didn’t want to chance it.”

   “Mother of Andraste, Varric!” Furry was at the forefront of the churning emotions building in her chest. “What have you done?”

   “I thought...” It didn’t matter Varric’s way of thinking as Hawke took off towards Cullen’s tower. He let out a heavy sigh. “Better go after her, fluffy. I’m going to fetch a healer.”

   Owein arched a brow. “For who? Is she going to kill him?”

   “More me.”

   Owein rubbed the ache forming at the base of his skull. “I’m so confused.”

   “Follow her and everything will start to make sense,” Varric urged starting down the stairs back to the courtyard.

   Thanks to Owein’s long legs, he easily caught up with the Champion, nearly colliding with her when she came to an abrupt stop right in front of the tower door. The energy surrounding the woman made the hairs on Owein’s arm come to attention. “Umm... Hawke...” He cleared his throat and tried again. “Olivia, are you okay?”

   Hawke lifted a trembling hand only to drop it back to her side. “Not in the slightest.”

   “I’m afraid I don’t understand what’s going on. Varric nor Cullen gave any indication you parted on such bad terms. In fact-.”

   “Varric like to only tell the whole truth when things are most convenient for him.” Pure venom dripped from her voice. “Cullen...”

   The shift in her voice to heart-wrenching pain only served to confuse the Inquisition all the more. He tried to recall the Champion and Commander’s relationship from Varric’s book to find an explanation for all this only came up empty. Did Varric leave out the true nature of the events in Kirkwall? Glossing them over to sell more copies? To throw the likes of Cassandra and the others after Hawke off her trail? Owein didn’t know much about Hawke, but he sure in the Fade didn’t like seeing her completely pale and shaken down to the bone. “Why don’t I find you a healer? Or escort you back-.” He stopped talking the moment she opened the door. “Or not.”

   “For the love of the Maker, Jim.” Cullen had his back to them, leaning against his freshly made desk, clearly agitated by the interruption. “What is it this time?”

   “Not Jim,” Owein Corrected.

   “Owein. I’m sorry...” Jerking around, Cullen’s voice tapered off the moment he saw who was standing next to the Inquisitor. Chest suddenly tight, Cullen forgot how to breathe.

   The confident and vibrant woman Owein met mere moments ago sounded so small, even broken, when she offered a smile and simply said, “Hello.”

   “Ol...Liv...”

   Much to Owein’s surprise, Cullen hit the ground, taking half the contents that were atop the desk with, in a dead faint. Owein stayed back the moment Hawke shot across the office, watching with great interest as she dropped down beside the unconscious Commander.

   “Cullen? Cullen?” Panic bubbling in the back of her throat, Hawke carefully cradled his head, searching for blood or bumps. A healing spell lingered in the tips of her fingers as she stroked them though Cullen’s tamed curls. Tears clung to her lashes. “Open your eyes, you big oaf!”

   The Commander’s eyes fluttered in response. Leaning into the warm and soothing touch, Cullen groaned as the pain from where his head connected with the cobblestone began to slowly lift. Eyes fully open now, he jolted. “Mother of Andraste!” He scrambled, or attempted to, away from Hawke. “Stay away from me you demon!”

   Afraid of the hostility quickly filling the room, Owein started forward, barrier spell starting to leave him, only to stop at Hawke’s sharp command.

   “Stay back,” Hawke hissed, never taking her gaze off the distraught warrior. “You’ll only make things worse.”

   “You will not trick me.” Cullen’s voice trembled. “You will not... Not her... Please, I can’t bear it.”

   Hands held outwards, Hawke inched closer, tears now streaming down her face. “Cullen look at me.” Her heart ached the moment he closed his eyes in protest. “I’m going to fucking kill Varric. Cullen, please.”

    Cullen turned his head. “You’re not real. You’re not real.”

   “Hawke,” Owein tried to interject again, baffled by the entire exchange. What in the Fade happened between these two? Was whatever it was one of the things Cullen admitted plagued him while he slept leading to night terrors? “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

   “Owein, please.”

   Remaining on guard, Owein fell silent.

   “Cullen, this is real. I’m real.” Carefully, Hawke touched a hand to his stubbly cheek. “I’m alive.”

   Cullen let out a shaky breath, his head jerking back around, eyes opened and filled to the brim with tears. “Liv?”

   Inching closer, Hawke smiled once more. “Yes. It’s me.”

   “But... But...” Still uncertain, Cullen lifted a gloved hand to brush the tips of his fingers along her jaw. A sob fell from his lips. “Sweet Maker, you’re real! You’re alive!”

   Wordlessly, she shook her head.

   “How?” Cullen softly asked.

   “That’s a long story.”

   “I would very much like to hear it.” Cullen pressed his brow to hers.

   There was no mistaking the intimacy in their touch. Owein rubbed a hand over his face. “As would I.”

   “I’m sure you do, Inquisitor.” Hawke thumbed away one of Cullen’s tears. “But I do believe my husband deserves to hear it first.”

   Stumbling back from the revelation, Owein felt like he’d been hit with a smite. “Husband.”

   “I know you have questions.”

   “About a thousand of them!”

   “Please leave it for now,” Hawke begged. “And give us some space.”

   Dazed. Owein fumbled his way out of the office and quickly shut the door behind him. He glared down at the dwarf anxiously waiting around the corner. “They’re married!”

   Varric dropped his gaze.

   Owein thought back to his conversation with Cullen after his first major night terror after Redcliff. Remembered the sorrow in the Commander’s voice when he spoke briefly of the woman he loved and lost. Not missing or hiding, but dead. Anger surged through Owein’s veins. “ _Déantóir Beannaithe!_ You never told him? You let him mourn for three fucking years? Forget Cassandra, Cullen is going to tear you into pieces.” Owein glowered at the rogue. “And rightly so! Anything else you’re hiding there, Varric?”

   Hearing the betrayal in Owein’s voice, Varric flinched. “I thought... I had my reasons.”

   “I'm sure you did,” Owein mockingly stated. “Gods help you if you’re holding back anything else from us. Don’t be surprised if you find yourself out on your arse over this, Varric. And don’t expect me to try to defend you.”

   Hunching his shoulders, Varric retreated down to the courtyard again.

   Owein leaned against the parapets cursing the dwarf and the pain his lies caused.

   Inside the office, Cullen brushed a stray lock of hair off Hawke’s Cheek, marveled as always. By the contrast of his pale flesh against her caramel color. “Olivia...” Words tangled in his throat.

   Hawke offered him a watery smile. “I know what you’re going to say.” She fell back to humor in hopes to lessen the heartache etched into his tired face. “I changed my hair.”

   Cullen let out a strained laugh as he began to play with the end of her braid. He’d never seen it this long since she always sported a pixie cut since the moment they met. “It suits you.”

   She passed her fingers through his golden locks. “No more noodlehead. This look is rather dashing, but I miss the curls.”

   “H-how? The Explosion.” Anguished filled his voice allowing himself to remember that horrible night willingly for the first time in ages. “Meredith. They told me you didn’t make it.”

   “Leaving was the safest option. When I was sneaking away from the Gallows, a pack of Templars cornered me. I knew the attacks wouldn’t stop when a price was put on my head.”

   “Safest?” Cullen jerked away. “Safest?”

   Hawke scrambled to her feet after him. “Cullen-.”

   “I buried you, Olivia. Both in Kirkwall and Lothering. I mourned for you! Safest!” Cullen yanked the chain loose from around his neck, the silver ring glinting in the fading sunlight. “You were my wife! How could you do that to me? Did I mean so little?”

   “Of course not!” She feverishly argued. “You were my heart and soul! You still are!”

   Cullen scoffed. “That so? Then why didn’t you talk to me beforehand? Did you not trust me? Did you think I wouldn't have followed you?”

   “You’re the only person I trust in this world, Cullen. Meredith’s grip was so tight, I couldn’t get to you. If she discovered us, she would’ve killed you.”

   Fire filled his amber gaze. “Afterwards?”

   “Everything was in disarray. People wanted me dead, trying to find you would have only condemned you to the same fate.”

   Roughly, he took her by the shoulder. “I would’ve followed you to the deepest part of the Fade, Olivia. Heart and soul,” Cullen echoed her words, the very same they used the night they wed under the cloak of darkness to conceal their union. He glanced at the metal on her left finger. “The moment I put that on your hand, I knew the risk. I gladly accepted them because I loved you.”

    The fact he still carried his ring to close to his heart even in mourning caused a deep ache in her own. “Cullen, I left a note. You were supposed to receive it after I left the city.” She gripped his tunic in sheer desperation to get him to believe her. “I would have never put you through this. Varric assured me you got it and the others.”

   “Three fucking years, Hawke.” Using her ser name was a blow and he knew it. At the moment, Cullen wanted her to experience the constant pain he’d been in every moment of every day since that night in Kirkwall. “You went on for three years without a word from me and simply accepted it.”

   Tears flowed down her pale face. “Varric sent me your replies, copying them in his own hand so as not to be traced back. I trusted... I didn’t...” Hawke reached out only for Cullen to turn from her touch. “I didn’t even know you were with the Inquisition until today.”

   “Varric?” Cullen seethed slamming the necklace onto his desk. “Varric!”

   Outside the tower, Owein was pulled from his deep world of thought by the familiar sound of Cassandra’s boots hitting the stone. “M _o stór_ ,” He greeted. “Back so soon?”

   Her brow furrowed at his strained tone. “It was a simple lap around the outskirts. What’s wrong?”

   “Why do you think something is wrong?”

   Cassandra pressed her thumb to the deep crease across his forehead. “Worry any harder and it’s going to stick. What troubles you, my wolf?”

   “Well,” Owein fought to find the right words. Before he could find a single one, the tower door clattered open and he snatched Cassandra around to waist, pulling her to him in order to keep Cullen from bowling her over as he stalked down the battlement. “Cullen?”

   “I’m going to fucking kill him,” Cullen stated before rushing down the stairs.

   “Kill who?” Cassandra demanded from Owein.

   “Cullen, Wait!” Hawke chased after the Commander, streaking past the couple in a blur once she used a fade step to catch up.

   Owein pushed Cassandra onto her feet before following. “Hawke, I don’t think-.”

   “Hawke!” Cassandra seethed. “Where is that fucking dwarf?”

   “IF he knows what’s good for him, hiding in a dark seep hole somewhere far away,” Owein muttered.

   Cassandra’s angry strides put in her in sync with the Inquisitor. “I’m going to kill him.”

   “Get in line.” Owein took a hard right after Cullen and Hawke. “I think Varric lying to Cullen about his dead wife actually being alive trumps his lie to you.”

   She caught him by the arm. “Did you say wife?”

   “Yes. Apparently, the Champion of Kirkwall married the Knight Captain of the Templar Order.” Breaking glass spurred Owein Faster leaving Cassandra with only a bit of information. They found themselves in a tower still being moved into with loud thuds of furniture being thrown on the floor above. “ _Cac._ He really is going to kill him.”

   Owein hit the landing in time to see Cullen lifting Varric by the neck and slammed his down hard on a broken table. Murder was in the Commander’s eyes and, while Owein didn’t blame the man, knew that intervening was the best thing to do. “Cullen, he can’t breathe.”

   “Good,” Cullen hissed squeezing tighter. He slammed his other fist into the rogue’s face. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through, you slimy little bastard? The pain? Nightmares? Living with half a heart?”

  Varric grasped Cullen’s shoulders but didn’t fight knowing this was a long time coming. “I was... Tring... To... Protect them... Like I promised.”

   “Them?” Cassandra echoed watching what little color remained drain from Hawke’s face. “Did you say them.”

   Heart now in his throat, Cullen eased his grip. “Them? Who is them?” Too impatient for Varric to answer, his gaze shot to his wife. The look she wore had him stumbling back until his back hit a wall to remain upright. “Liv, what does he mean?”

   Seeing the woman’s knees knocking violently together, Owein rushed in order to catch Hawke before she crumbled if needed. “Maybe we should leave it for now.”

   “Stay out of this Trevelyan!” Cullen barked. “Olivia, tell me. You owe me this. Tell me!”

   Hawke griped Owein’s arms, needing the support as the wound that was only beginning to scab over tore wide open. “I was with child.” Knowing her words caused the man she loved pain made it unbearable to look at him. Tears burned the back of her throat. “I wanted to keep her safe, that’s why I fled. I sent for you, Cullen. I swear it on my mother’s life.”

   Thousands of emotions hit Cullen all at once leaving his mind reeling. “Her.” He swallowed heard. “We have a daughter?”

   “Whoa.” Owein caught Hawke by the waist the moment her legs buckled. The sob she desperately tried to hold back was gut-wrenching and filled Owein with despair. “ _Le na Diathan.”_

For the moment, Cullen’s anger disappeared as he found solid ground and stalked over to gather Hawke into his arms. He saw all the pain and misery swirling in her green eyes, but still, he needed to hear the words. “Liv.” He cupped her damp cheek.

   “I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.” Hawke forced herself to hold his gaze. “She was so beautiful. She had your curls and smile.”

    Cullen’s breath hitched. “She did?”

   “I sent for you, but you never came.”

   “My love, I would’ve ridden through a horde of dragons to get to you.” He shook from head to toe. “Were you alone?”

   “Carver, Fenris, and Merrill were with me. They never left me, even after...” Hawke fought the sobs bubbling to be released. “I failed, Cullen. I failed you and Evelynn.”

   Cullen felt like he was being brushed by the anguish in her voice. “You named her after my mother?”

   Hawke nodded. “A group of rogue templar infected by Red Lyrium found us. We were making our way to the Conclave. The others told me it wasn’t worth it, finding you, but I knew if you were anywhere it would be there. I lost her. I couldn’t protect her. She was almost two winters.”

   Greif brewing inside him, Cullen held her close trying to absorb her pain of reliving the nightmare. He fought to let out a howl of curses to the Maker and his bride for letting this happen. For punishing him when all he’d been trying to do was atone for his life of mistakes and prejudices. “Shh, my love.” He stroked a hand down her frayed braid. “You didn’t fail because I know you fought with every breath n your body to protect her.”

   “If Carver and Merrill hadn’t found me, I would've joined our daughter in the Fade.” Hawke wished most days they let her die. To live with the loss of a child was too much at times.

   “I should’ve been there. Maker forgive me,” Cullen tearfully pleaded. “I should’ve...I could’ve protected you both.” Anger came back with a vengeance as he looked at Varric. “You didn’t tell me. You-!”

   Cassandra charged toward to intercept her fellow warrior before he could get to the dwarf, knowing Varric was dead if that happened. She used all her might to wrestle Cullen away. “Owein, take care of her,” She commanded. “I’ll take care of him. And Varric... Just...Just go.”

   Head hung low, Varric lifted himself off the broken table and disappeared downstairs.

    Owein carefully slipped his arm under Hawke’s legs. “Come on, _croí milis_ ,” Owein softly muttered. “Wrap your arm around my neck. That’s it.” Exchanging a parting look with Cassandra, he carried away the destroyed Hawke knowing that if anyone could reach Cullen it would be the Seeker.

An troich- The Dwarf

 _Déantóir Beannaithe-_ blessed Maker

M _o stór- My darling_

_Cac-Shit_

Le na Diathan-By the Gods

croí milis - sweat heart


	18. The Fallout

   On a bit of a sad sigh, Owein sat on the stairs of the middle landing of the staircase leading towards the room Josephine was working on for him. He hadn’t been particularly fond of the idea of such a grand sleep space as he preferred the comforts of a simple tent. Nor was Owein happy of the fact he carried another woman to the simple bed that was brought up to the room a few days ago. But it was the only place Owein could think to take Hawke, gripped by the throat by grief and heartache, to have an ounce of privacy. Morning was only a handful of hours away and his fellow mage finally gave in to exhaustion, dropping into the Fade. Hopefully, dreamlessly thanks to Cole’s ‘help’.

   Owein rubbed this weary face trying and failing to imagine what Hawke and Cullen were currently going through.

   _Fucking Varric!_

How could the dwarf thinking hold in such a secret was the best course of action? To see Cullen grieving every day over the loss of the woman he loved and still not say w rod? Or worse yet, write to Hawke pretending to be the warrior, fooling the Champion to the point she believed Cullen didn’t care about their child?

   Before he could even try to fathom that pain, Owein heard Cassandra’s light footsteps coming up the steps. His Seeker looked as emotionally drained as he felt. “Hi,” He softly greeted.

   She gave him a small smile. “Hi.”

   Owein gently tugged her down next to him. “How is our, C _eannasaí?”_

“Utterly devastated.” Cassandra glanced upwards. “And Hawke?”

   “Just fell asleep,” Owein informed on a frown.

   Cassandra began to wring her hands together. “I figured Cullen would after he got the anguish and tears out, but it took slipping him a sleeping draft to find oblivion. I thought perhaps to have Dorian ensure a dreamless sleep but figured that would only put the Mage in danger. He’s watching over Cullen in a chamber we found beneath the Keep.”

   Slipping an arm around her shoulders, he invited her to pillow her head on his shoulder. “What a mess.”

   She nuzzled his throat. “That’s the understatement of the decade.” Her skin began to pleasantly hum the moment his fingers reached to lock with hers. “This… I knew Varric could be… I can’t believe his lies. Does he realize the damage he caused?”

   “Seeing how Cole kindly informed me that the dwarf is held up on some dark corner of Skyhold drowning himself in Antiavian whiskey, I imagine he has a faint idea.” Owein thought to the woman currently sleeping in his bed. “Besides the pain of reliving the loss of a child and the betrayal for a person she trusted, the thing she couldn’t get past was the fact Cullen now hates her and she lost his love for good.”

    “He may be hurting, among other things, but that man is still hopelessly in love with her.”

   Owein glanced down. “You knew about them?”

   “Not the marriage part,” Cassandra assured trying to choose her words carefully. She only knew of the hidden relationship due to it slipping into one of his Lyrium withdrawal-induced night terrors. Cullen hadn’t divulged to the Inquisitor about his choice to stop taking Lyrium and wouldn’t betray the Commander’s confidence on the matter. “When he first joined the Inquisition, I could see the pain of loss. He let small things slip and his eyes always grew soft when he spoke of Hawke. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.”

   “You helped him through the grief.”

   Cassandra countered, “I was simply a friend.”

   Lips curving, Owein cupped her cheek, stroking a thumb along the jagged scar. He cherished the warmth of her skin and the smile she was desperately trying to fight. “You’re an utterly delightful and extraordinary woman.” Owein pressed his brow to hers. “And you have no clue.”

   Flustered not only by the compliant but the intensity of his voice, Cassandra tried to deflect it with a bit of humor. “I object.” Her breath hitched the moment her lips skimmed over hers. “There is nothing delightful about me.”

   A full-fledged smile flashed across his face. “I’ll just have to do everything I can to prove it to you.”

   Swamped with emotions, Cassandra took her face in his hands, slanting her mouth over his. After all of the emotional turmoil of the day, she wanted him to know exactly how much her heart yearned for him. For as long as she could remember, Cassandra had been searching for this warmth, the completeness of her soul, and now that she had it, she was going to fight to keep it until her dying breath.

   “ _Arun.”_ Owein fought the fire surging in his veins to haul her against him and ravish her.

   Though unclear what he said beyond the knowledge it was a term of endearment, Cassandra smiled as his words sent her heart fluttering pleasantly in her chest. “My wolf.”

   “Even though the wrong woman is in my bed, I should go back up. I don’t know how long Cole can help her slumber.”

   One of her hands slid to his chest, resting over his heart. “You’re a compassionate man, Owein Trevelyan. The last year hasn’t been easy and the road ahead is treacherous and filled with unseen obstacles. Don’t lose that, Owein. Promise me.”

   He covered her hand with his own. “All I can promise is I’ll try my best.”

    “And in truth that’s all I can ask.” She indulged in one more kiss. “I’ll go back to attending to Cullen. Thankfully, I don’t believe there is anything else for him to destroy.”

   Owein simply raised a brow.

   “We all have our own way to decompress.” Grinning now, Cassandra reluctantly pushed to her feet. “Yours just calls for a bit more fur.”

   “Sleep well, _arun.”_

   “Try to get some yourself.”

   “I’ll do my best.”

   Cassandra’s smile died the moment she entered the dimly lit main hall and found Varric standing near the stained-glass windows. His head was bowed and hand clutching a bundle of parchment. Anger surged, not because he lied to her and lead her around by her nose for over a year, but for the deep pain he caused two people that didn’t deserve it for all they had been through in life.

   “You little snake,” Cassandra hissed marching across the room. Taking the dwarf by the shoulder, she violently yanked him around to dace her. The sorrow seeping into his features did nothing to tapper her anger. “You have some balls showing your face. Cullen is looking for blood and I’m inclined to give it to him.”

   Varric frowned but remained silent.

   Cassandra shook him. “Nothing to say for yourself? No clever words to talk your way out of this fucking mess you made?” Disgusted, she pushed Varric away before she strangled the life out of him. Her anger and disappointment paled in comparison to what Hawke and Cullen were currently experiencing. “What are you even doing here?”

   The thumbed the stack of parchment that was tied together by a thin red ribbon. “I figured it would be best if I set out to Crestwood with Harding to help defuse the thickness around here.”

   “And what are you holding?”

   “Hawke’s letters,” Varric whispered. “The ones she sent me to get to Cullen. She wrote to him twice a week for two years. Even after…”

   “The death of their daughter that Cullen is currently blaming himself for,” Cassandra’s snap echoed off the stone walls. “What purpose are those letters now? To cut his heart even deeper? To drive him over the edge?”

    “I know I screwed up,” Varric shot back. “I thought what I was doing was the best and I was wrong. Now, my best friend is upstairs relieving the worst pain of her life all over again. There is nothing I can do or say that can many of you believe me when I say this wasn’t my intention.”

   Cassandra folded her arms over her chest.

   Varric held up the bundle of parchment. “Give them to Cullen?”

   “Why should I do that?”

   Sighing, he forced Cassandra to take them. “Right now, our Commander is thinking that Hawke didn’t-doesn’t love him. That it was her actions that kept them apart for the last two years. I want him to see that it wasn’t her fault. She wrote to him, over and over, affirming her love, apologizing for her deception, and putting her hopes on parchment for a life they could build with the life they created once the dust settled.”

   Clenching her jaw, Cassandra reluctantly took them. “If this is what you do for your friends, I actually feel sorry for your enemies.” She tucked the bundle in her belt. “You’re a conniving little snake, Varric. I hope for your sake there are no more lies up your sleeve because if there are, you don’t have a place in the Inquisition.”

    “I understand.”

   “How are you going to fix this?”

   The question caught Varric off guard as he expected only anger and hostility from the Seeker. “I really don’t know,” Varric confessed. “Is there even a way?”

   “Possibly.” Cassandra tilted her head to the side. “Tell me the truth, are you withholding anything else? Anything that can cause this amount of damage again?”

   “No,” Varric answered in all honesty.

   Cassandra rubbed a hand over her tired face. “Then by some grace of Andraste, while you’re away, I can find a way to convince Cullen not to kill you.”

   Varric’s brow shot up. “You’re going to help me? I figured you’d be second in line to chuck me off the battlement.”

   “Believe me, I want to, but then you won’t be around to try to undo the mess you made. The letters are a good first step. Now, we somehow have to get Cullen to focus on the joyous fact the woman he loves is alive.”

   “I-Uh…” Varric shifted nervously. “You surprise me, Seeker.”

   She shoved a finger into his chest. “Because there is more to me then steel and spit, Varric. I would leave at first light or at least pitch a tent outside the walls and far away from Cullen.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

   The next morning, Cassandra was sitting at the small table in the kitchen, tired and emotionally spent. The letters Varric gave her sat on the bench beside her as the time to give them to the Commander had to be done right or would only serve to worsen the situation. Cassandra, with Dorian’s help, tried to get Cullen back to his tower, but her fellow warrior wanted to stay in the dark hole he found. Cassandra concluded it was best not to push. One wrong move and Cullen would start sliding back down the tunnel of despair and even possibly relapse with Lyrium.

   “Room for me?”

   Shuffling over, Cassandra tucked the bundle of parchment back into her belt. “For you, my wolf. Always.”

   Exhausted, Owein sat next to her with a weary smile and a plate of his own. “Dorian with Cullen?”

   Cassandra filled the Inquisitor with freshly made apple juice. In their exploration of the area around Skyhold, they discovered an overgrown orchid that somehow survived the cold temperature of the Frostback mountains. “I’m going to relieve him after I eat. Who is with Hawke? Cole?”

   He shook his head and braced for his lover’s reaction. Cassandra was still cautious about the spirit of compassion as were most members of the Inquisition. Owein figured he would be himself if he hadn’t seen how Cole helped the sick and wounded while uplifting those swamped with grief over the loss they suffered in Haven. Cole pleaded to help Cullen as well, but given the Commander’s experience over the years with magic, Owein figured it was best the spirit stayed away. “I heard Varric is camping outside the walls and going to leave for Crestwood in the next day or two.”

   Honestly, it’s for the best. And I’m not just saying that because I’m royally pissed off at the bastard for lying to me since the beginning.” Cassandra mindlessly picked at her food. “Once Cullen pulls himself out of the darkness, if Varric is still around, it would surely mean his death.”

   “You’re concerned for Varric?”

   Cassandra shrugged. “I can’t fathom what reason he thought qualified as justifiable to keep Cullen in the dark about Hawke. I do understand he lied to me because he cares and truly wanted to keep her safe.”

   Surprising her, Owein leaned over to give her a smacking kiss. “There you go being delightful again.”

   “You flatter me.”

   His lips curved upward. “I’m trying.”

   “Which you’re usually good at. This time it’s because you’re trying to soften me up.”

   “You’re scary sometimes, do you know that?”

    Cassandra laughed. “I’ve been told more times than I can count. Lay it on me, Trevelyan. You know I hate beating around the bush.”

   Owein took a breath of courage. “When we set off for Crestwood, I think you should stay here.”

   Cassandra reached out to cover his twitching hand, soothing way the worry from his copper eyes. “Who will you take?”

      “Well, umm…” Owein took a moment to switch his frame of mind as he was sure he’d have to defend his statement while fielding her anger. “As much as I’m not too keen on the idea, Blackwall. If there are Wardens involved it’s only logical for him to tag along. Cole to help Hawke, who I’m assuming will set out with us and Bull. Possibly Coram.”

   “I would be far more concerned if you said Sera. Maker only knows what type of trouble that elf would get you lot into.”

   Owein arched a brow. “You’re okay staying behind?”

   “Not in the slightest.” She brought their joint hands to her cheek. Every single cell in her body rebelled at the idea of him going into the unknown without her. They were meant to protect one another and were at their strongest when together. This man was her very soul, the thought of something happening to him in her absence terrified Cassandra to the bone. “But someone we care about is hurting and that hurt won’t lessen on its own. It means the world to me you understand and respect my friendship with Cullen. And know, that besides Hawke, I am the only one that can pull him from the darkness.”

   “He mentioned you helped him through black times after Kirkwall. He was a bit vague on the details though.” Owein shrugged not letting himself dwell on if during that period the two warriors’ relationship was physical at the time. Once the thought caused a sting of jealousy. Now, Owein no longer had to worry as the Commander’s heart belong to someone else. “I figured he would fill me in when he felt the time was right. I don’t want to push and tear open old wounds.”

    “You have a gift for being understanding.”

   Flushed, Owein shrugged.

   “I was terrified that Cullen had been all alone after the explosion dealing with the guilt of his actions, my death, and the fall of the Templar Order.” Hawke’s voice had the couple turned to the back entrance of the kitchen. She knew she must look a sight with deep bags under her bloodshot eyes. “After Cullen took a public stand against Meredith, he lost those that could possibly be seen as friends. I had my own to help and support me through the difficult times. I’m utterly grateful he had you, Seeker.”

   “Cassandra,” The Warrior introduced herself. “IT’s quite a pleasure to meet you, Hawke. Just wish under different circumstances.”

   “Likewise.” Hawke sat across from the pair struggle to refrain from allowing disdain at their obvious affection from one another to gain any traction. Because her love life was in shambles didn’t mean that other people couldn’t be happy. “When do we move out for Crestwood?”

   Owein studied his fellow mage for a moment. “Thought perhaps in three or four days.”

   “Will it take that long to gather the supplies?” Hawke wondered.

   “Well, no,” Owein answered. “I figured maybe you would need some time-.”

   Hawke dismissed such a thought away with a flick of her wrist. “Staying and wallowing will do no good for me. I’ll be better out in the field hitting the shit out of something.”

   Owein stole a glance at Cassandra. “Seems to be a common practice with strong-headed women.”

   Cassandra answered him with a soft jab to the gut using her elbow.

   “Besides.” Hawke dropped her gaze to her fidgeting hands in her lap. “The sooner I’m out of Cullen’s presence the better. I know he has no desire to see me now or ever, for that matter.”

   “That’s complete nonsense, Olivia.” The use of the Champion’s first name had her pale green eyes meeting Cassandra’s dark ones. “That man loves you beyond reason. He will continue to do so until his last breath, but even then, it will carry over to the Fade.”

   Tears welling, Hawke struggled to keep them at bay. “How can you possibly be so sure?”

   “Because your death split him down to the bone. He was drowning in guilt and living in hindsight. He blamed himself, his inaction, and the control of the Order for that fateful night in Kirkwall,” Cassandra explained.

   Hawke perked up a little. “Many things were happening in that Blighted City. It became toxic and Anders exploited that weakness. Cullen did question Meredith’s order, her rule, state of mind long before that night.”

   “Because you helped him see he could do more” Cassandra insisted. “Be more than the scars and mistakes of his past. You helped him realize the grip the Templars had on him and how he longed to so the type of good that didn’t fall in line with her way of thinking.”

   Tears escaping her defenses, Hawke quickly wiped them away. “He always thought himself less than what he truly was.”

   Cassandra reached across the table to take Hawke’s hand. “After the dust settled and word reached him of your death, Cullen vowed to honor what you stood for. To break free from the leash the Chantry had around his throat. To right the wrongs of his life. He couldn’t abandon the city, his sense of duty to help with the mess his commanding officer created.”

   “He left the order.” Hawke found herself gripping the Seeker’s hand. “He vowed he would. That when the time was right, we’d disappear into the world and live a nice quiet life. As much as the thought thrilled me, it terrified me all the same. No one left the order because of their dependence of Lyrium. Especially with the high doses, they were taking under Meredith’s order.”

   “He left that life behind the day he joined the inquisition.”

   “He’s not taking Lyrium?” This question came from Owein.

   Cassandra bit back a curse. She hadn’t meant to out Cullen.

   Terror filled Hawke’s voice. “He stopped? For the love of Andraste, why? It’s dangerous and could kill him.”

   “His reasons are his to explain as it should be Cullen telling you this, not me. I know he wants nothing to do with that life as it only brought him pain and misery,” Cassandra softly replied. “And, yes, it’s dangerous. That’s why I’ve been with him every step of the way. He trusts me to make sure he stays on the sober path and if it becomes a hindrance, remove him from command. A role you should have now.”

   “Can we go back?” Hawke mindlessly wondered. “After everything that happened in the last three years?”

    While Owein had a dozen questions about Cullen’s life-altering choice, he chose to concentrate on that matter at hand. “You may not be able to get back to where you two were before, but that’ doesn’t mean all is lost. There is still a long road ahead waiting for you two to walk down together.”

   “I pray you’re right.” Hawke pushed to his feet with more life in her bones than when she walked into the room. “Still, I think some time for him to digest everything will go a lot smoother if I’m not around. I know Cullen. He’ll need the space for himself to figure out if he wants to move forward down that road.”

   Owein offered a small smile. “I learned not to argue too much with strong-headed women.”

    A rusty laugh slipped from Hawke’s lips the moment Cassandra playfully boxed the Inquisitor’s ear. “Smart man.”

   “I have my moments.”

   “Thank you, Se-Cassandra,” Hawke whispered. “For staying to help Cullen. I know it’s hard to let your loved ones go into potentially dangerous situations without you.”

   “You watch mine and I’ll watch yours,” Cassandra proposed.

   Owein hesitated. “Alone?”

   “I hear Scout Harding and Varric are setting out today. I’ll take along with them.” Hawke let out a long sigh. “I have a lot of things to work out with that dwarf.”

   “Be well, Champion,” Owein bided the mage goodbye.    

   Cassandra held up a finger when Owein turned to her the moment Hawke was gone. “I shouldn’t have said anything about Cullen’s choice.”

   “But-.”

   “He will come to you,” Casandra assured only adding to her lover’s frustration. “When he’s ready. Though given recent events, that time might come later than intended.”

   Giving up on this current line of questioning, Owein began to eat again. “Do you think he will forgive her?”

   “After some self-wallowing and bouts of anger towards himself and Hawke, yes I do.” Cassandra popped a grape into her mouth. “I’ve been tracking down some high-profile renegade Templars and Mages since settling in Skyhold. I have a lead on one in the Hinterlands. Perhaps getting Cullen away, putting a sword in his hands and beating the shit out of something will help.”

   “You would know, judging by how many training dummies we had to replace in Haven.” Chuckling, Owein dodged a piece of fruit she threw at him. “Just be safe, _Iarrthóir_ _.”_

   “As long as you promise the same, _anam.”_

   Pleasure filled his heart to the point Owein was sure it would burst from his chest. Cupping the back of her head, he pressed his brow to hers far to overcome with emotions to attempt to speak. Simply basked in the warmth of her voice, touched that she took the time to learn his language. While his family threw him away due to his magic, here was this wonderful woman who not only accepted that part of him but the heritage that saved his life. Loved him.

   Smiling, Cassandra thumbed the lone tear that leaked from the corner of his disfigured eye. “Coram taught me that one.”

   “Did he now?”

   “Along with a few others,” Cassandra softly confessed after their lips crashed together in a mind-numbing kiss. “I wanted to know what you called me that day you met him on the docks. He’s been teaching me some things here and there so I can surprise you.”

   He pulled her onto his lap. “Remind me to thank him later.”

   “How about we take our meal upstairs now we have the room to ourselves.”

   “Great idea.” Owein grinned Cassandra’s girlish squeak when he stood, forcing her to lock her legs around his waist. Fulling supporting her, he leaned down. “Grab the plates, _Arun_.”

   Laughing, Cassandra complied and happily allowed Owein to carry her upstairs.

Ceannasaí-Commander

Arun-my love

_Iarrthóir- Seeker_

_Anam- soulmate/ soul love/ soul friend_


	19. Separation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to focus on the moments in between the main points of the game since we all know what happens. Hopefully, you guys are finding this story enjoyable!

   Back at camp west of the Cross Roads, Cassandra relieved herself of her sword and shield before sitting down by the fire. She was surprised when Cullen followed suit, picked up a bowl and filled it with stew from the pot pasting above the flames. It was the first time since Hawke’s appearance he ate on his own accord. Cassandra was usually badgering and literally forcing what food she could down his throat.

   It seemed bringing Cullen along on her hunt proved to be a wise choice. She began to make a bowl for herself. “Told you getting out from behind your desk would do you some good.”

   Taking a healthy bite of the stew, Cullen grunted in agreement. He had seen and experienced his fair share of battle throughout his life and was grateful for the change offered upon taking up the title Commander of the Inquisition. Training and strategizing helped lessen the demons on Cullen’s back he acquired over those years of bloodshed. But there was no denying it felt good to be donned in full armor with a sword in his hand again. This time, though taking a life was never easy, even an evil one, Cullen knew in the name he fought for was true and did its best to be just in every way. Or at least it tired and was honest about their intentions, unlike the Templar order.

   “You know you’re going to have to talk to me at some point,” Cassandra pointed out while the rest of their companions grabbed their own bowls and sat elsewhere to give them their space. “Besides words screamed on the battlefield.”

   “Cass.” Cullen scrubbed a hand over the thick stumbles growing along his jaw.

   “Wow. You actually said my name without venom in your voice.”

   “Can’t you stay out of this.”

   “I could, but I won’t.”

   “And why not?” Cullen growled.

   “Because I love you like a brother and it kills me to see you in this much pain.” Cassandra could tell that wasn’t the answer the Commander was expecting. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through and it would be an insult to you to even pretend to. All I know is the woman you love, your wife, that you thought dead, is alive.”

    Thinking of Hawke, Cullen began to toy with the ring hanging around his neck. Regardless of the fact, his wife was indeed alive, he couldn’t bring himself to wear it without all the bitter memories overtaking him. “Despite what you might think, I am overjoyed by that fact.”

   “But…”

   “But.” Cullen violently stabbed his spoon into his stew with enough force the bowl nearly slipped from his grasp. “She-she should’ve known, damn it.”

   Cassandra frowned. “Known what?” At least he was talking even if there was nothing but fire in his voice.

   “That I wouldn’t have ignored the letters about our child. I would’ve-should’ve been there.” Tears welled and burned, leaving Cullen grappling with his emotions. “Why didn’t she come look for me? Why did she accept that I would simply abandon them? Did she think so little of me?”

   Guilt weight heavily on Cassandra’s heart. “The letters stopped because Varric was in my custody.”

   “Shouldn’t have stopped her from seeking me out.”

   “She was an apostate with a high bounty on her head,” Cassandra softly reminded. She was quick to cut him off before he could continue on his rant. “And she was going to find you.”

   Cullen’s head jerked up, amber eyes burning brightly. “What?”

   Cassandra set aside her half-eaten bowl. “She told you as such but you were too blinded by grief and rage at the time.”

   Pinching the bridge of his nose, he struggled to remember the words, but Cassandra was right. He couldn’t recall anything about the night of her reappearance beyond the emotions. “What did she… Why… What stopped her?”

   “She lost Evelyn two weeks before the explosion. Once she surfaced from her grief, her warden friend sought her help, giving her the distraction she needed from the loss of your daughter.”

   “My daughter.” Bowl falling from his fingers, Cullen buried his face in his hands. All of a sudden it became difficult to breathe as his own grief took hold. At that moment, demons from his past started whispering in his head, demanding he down the sorrow in Lyrium and take control of his life once more. “Maker, I had a daughter.”

   Quickly, Cassandra moved to pull him into her arms. Knowing there were no words to offer at the moment, she buried her face in his hair and began to rock as his head fell into the crook of her arm. “Nothing in Thedas can take away this pain and for that, I’m truly sorry.” Cassandra fought her own tears unable to see her loyal friend is such agony. “But there is someone else out there that is going through the same thing. That can help you heal.”

   Cullen’s fingers dug into the arms of her padded tunic. “How can she ever forgive me?”

   Words tangled in her throat. For nearly two weeks now, she thought Cullen was the one angry at Hawke and was trying to figure out a way to help the Commander release some of it to get the two back on at least speaking terms. “Oh, Cullen.”

   “I wasn’t there.” Cullen’s breath hitched on a sob. “I failed her in so many ways.”

   “There may be hurt, but there is no doubt that the woman still loves you.” After easing him up from her embrace, Cassandra went to her tent in order to retrieve her pack. She’d planned to give him Hawke’s letters when they returned, but couldn’t’ deny the profound opportunity presenting itself now. Pulling out the bundle of parchment, she placed them in Cullen’s trembling hands. “She wrote to you well after Varric stopped replying on your behalf. She wouldn’t have bothered if she didn’t still love you.”

   Cullen simply stared down at this name inked onto the top letter in his wife’s scrawl.

   Cassandra took from Owein’s wise words he offered Hawke the day she left for Crestwood. “There is no going back, but that doesn’t mean you can’t move forward. Come together, learn how to lean and recover as you journey down the road of life together.”

0o0oo0o0o0oo0o

   “ _De réir an chruthaitheoir.”_ Shaking his wet hair, Owein cursed the ever-persistent rain of Crestwood. “It’s been raining for nearly two weeks! Doesn’t it ever stop?”

   “You’re just complaining because you don’t have your _Iarrthóir_ to keep you warm.” Coram teased sitting at the main fire in the upper courtyard of Caer Bronach. He happily took a steaming bowl of stew from Bull. “At least you have someone to keep you warm.”

   “Warm. Hot. Hungry,” Cole appeared beside the fire rambling in his oh so charming way. “There is a want when she looks at you. It grows and grows. Nothing like she’s ever felt before.”

    Owein squirmed in his seat. “Cole-.”

   “She waits while you wait,” Cole continued ignoring the Inquisitor. “Watching, longing.”

   Now, Owein listened with great interest as it was apparent that the spirit wasn’t talking about Cassandra. Out the corner of his eye, he noted that Coram was staring at his bowl with great interest. “Who are you talking about, Cole?”

   “It’s quite obvious, isn’t it,” Bull muttered around a mouthful of food.

   “Obviously not!” Owein shot back.

   Coram’s head jerked up, looking at the Qunari. “You know?”

   The warrior grinned. “Secrets are kind of my thing, bird boy.”

   “Bird boy?” Coram echoed horrified. “Creators, no. Please, don’t call me that.”

   “I bet you wouldn’t mind if she called you that,” Bull teased.

   “Who?” Owein demanded. “Who are you talking about?”

   Coram hunched his shoulders wishing he could take flight and escape the conversation. He was far too tired from the rain and the recent battle to take the fortress. “Leave it alone, _mac tire._ It will amount to nothing in the end.”

   Cole drifted over to the rogue. “Her heart holds scars and bitterness, yet it yearns to beat again for something good. She wants someone to see past her shield.” His pale eyes connected with Coram’s blazing blue ones. “She wants it to be you.”

   “Me?”

   The spirit nodded then frowned. “This doesn’t please you?”

   “No, it does,” Coram softly assured careful to keep his words in checked knowing Owein was listening intently. “Things aren’t simple, is all.”

   “Bah!” Bull dismissed the elf’s way of thinking. “That’s horse shit. It doesn’t have to be complicated. Get her in bed, make her purr, and work it out of your system.”

   Owein knew his friend well enough that Coram didn’t want to work this woman out of his system. The Dalish weren’t above affairs, but when they fell, they fell hard. Coram usually wasn’t shy about his conquest and his silence on the matter only strengthened Owein’s resolve to know who his friend was infatuated with. But before he could probe any further and Inquisition runner from base camp appeared beside the fire.

   “Inquisitor Trevelyan?” The young boy asked.

   “What can I do for you?” Owein asked.

   The runner dug into his sopping wet jacket. “I received a letter with an urgent message to deliver it right away. I’m sorry that it’s a bit water logged.”

   Standing to take the missive, Owein encouraged the man to take his seat by the fire. “Warm yourself up and eat. You can return in the morning.”

   “I won’t say no to that,” He grumbled shrugging out of his wet outer layers.

   Expecting it to be from Cassandra, Owein was pleasantly surprised to see the missive addressed to someone else. “I need to go find Hawke.” He glared down at Coram. “Don’t think this conversation is over, _deartháir.”_

    Coram grumbled into his bowl of stew.

   Grapping his own cloak he left out to dry, Owein secured it around his shoulders before leaving the shelter of the alcove in search of the Champion. If he was lucky, he could catch her before she set off to meet her Warden contact. She and Varric had separated themselves after the skirmish with the bandits, trying to mend fences. As much as he didn’t care too much about the dwarf, Owein knew they needed that time together and the missive he held could easily destroy any progress they made.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

      The bells coming from the main gate had Cassandra pushing up from the chair and abandoning their chess game. She hesitated upon noticing Cullen didn’t make a move to follow. “Are you not coming?”

   The Commander began to reset the board. “Properly best not to make a scene.”

   “You can’t avoid her or your problems forever, Cullen,” Cassandra softly chastised but didn’t push the matter any further. Instead, she placed a sisterly kiss to his crown. “I’ll come to check on you in about an hour to make sure you’re not hiding in some dark spot avoiding everything.”

   He waved her off. “Go,” He urged. “Go and give your wolf a proper greeting. I’ll be fine.”

   “I beg to differ only I will have to argue the point later.”

   Sighing, Cullen made a show of rolling his eyes. “Will you go already?”

   Leaving Cullen to stew, for now, Cassandra hurriedly made her way from the gardens to the main gate. People have already crowded around, welcoming the Inquisitor and his companions back to the safety of Skyhold, Cassandra forced herself to slow her pace. To keep the eagerness from her face in order to maintain her fearless warrior mentality. Then Owein ‘s gaze finally founds hers and he gave her a wide smile that made her heart tremble. Giving in to her girlish urges, Cassandra broke through the crowd and launched herself into his arms, linking her arms around his neck as, laughing, he twirled them into dizzy circles much to the delight of the group.

   Back on her feet, Cassandra ran the tips of her fingers over the thin beard he let grow during his travels. “Welcome home, Owein.”

   Warmth and affection filled Owein’s tired copper eyes. “Home,” He echoed leaning down to nuzzle her cheek. “I rather like the sound of that. _Tabhair do bhéal, iarrthóir_.”

   Smiling, she happily obliged, meeting his curved lips eagerly with her own for a welcome home kiss that burned all the way down to his very soul. The people around them cheered in approval once again causing her to draw away and burry her heated face in his throat. “I am pleased to see you’ve returned unharmed.” She peeked over her shoulder to check the status of the rest of his companions. “All of you.”

   “It wasn’t an easy journey, but we prevailed and gained valuable information.” Because he couldn’t stop himself, Owein peppered her face in feather-light kisses. Her laughter instantly melted the stress of their month-long expedition to Crestwood and everything that transpired there. “I know you and the others want a report, but I would very much like a hot bath and possibly a nap.”

   “You’re are the Inquisitor,” Cassandra reminded in between the laughter. “I’m sure you can make it happen?”

   “Where is Coram?” Leliana’s voice broke through the noise coming from the crowd around the gate. “And Hawke?”

   Owein fought to smile at the underlining tone in the Spymaster’s question. He was quite surprised to see her among the welcoming part. She usually would wait to greet them once they meet for debrief. “He’s doing some extra scouting and working with Hawke to ensure we have no gaps in our patrols in the area outside of Skyhold.”

   “She’s not coming back?” This time the question came from Cullen. Unlike Leliana’s hopeful tone, his was strained with disappointment and heartache.

   Tucking Cassandra against his side, Owein fixed his attention on the utterly exhausted-looking Commander. He could tell that Cullen’s world hinged on what he was about to say. “She will be once Stroud, her Warden connection, meets up at the rally point.” Owein watched hope slowly creep back into Cullen’s bones. “We thought it safest to keep the wandering Wardens off our tail by traveling separately.”

   Since she knew Cullen’s courage to inquire further was depleted, Cassandra took it upon herself to ask the next question. “When should we expect them?”

   “Less than a week,” Owein assured.

   “Right,” Cullen muttered rubbing the back of his neck. “Welcome back, Owein. I know you’re in search of a bath so don’t let me delay you. We’ll meet in the War Room before evening meal?”

   “Sounds good to me,” Bull huffed in relief and started towards the stairs leading to his quarters.

   As the rest of the party began to disburse, even Varric who conveniently blended in to avoid both the Seeker’s and Commander’s attention, Owein let go of Cassandra and rushed to take Cullen by the shoulder before he could disappear as well. “Cullen.” He waited until he had the warrior’s full attention. “Hawke, she received your letter.”

   Hope began to stir leaving Cullen unable to do anything more than a smile thank you before making his way back to his office feeling a bit lighter.

   Stepping up next to the Inquisitor, Cassandra slipped her arm through his. “You’re a good man, Owein Trevelyan.”

   Owein shrugged. “Don’t let it get around.”

   Cassandra laughed. “Come… wait how do you say my wolf in Dalish?”

   Once again, her effort to learn his language made Owein’s heart swell. “ _Mo_ means my and _mac tire_ means wolf.”

   “ _Mo mac tire,_ ” Cassandra tried out the new words, dazzled by the joy shimmering in his copper gaze. “Hmm… _Mac tire…_ Let’s get you to the baths.”

    “Will you be joining me?” Owein asked hopefully. “It would be far more enjoyable.”

   “Well, since we have a bit of time to kill before our meeting, I think I can be persuaded.”

   Smiling, he nibbled at her bottom lip. “By the light, I’ve missed you. It wasn’t the same going out on the battlefield without you by my side. I felt off-balanced. Like a piece of myself was missing.”

   Cassandra hooked her arms around his neck. “Keep going,” She insisted. “You’re doing a wonderful job of persuading so far.”

  Not giving too much of thought they were only a handful of steps away from the main gate and there were still plenty of people around, Owein backed her up against one of the construction posts set up to rebuild the crumbling inner wall. He pressed his lips to her neck, pressing his bulk against her as he trailed them upwards until they found hers. Her sigh, the feel of her fingers brushing through the locks of his hair, her taste, her scent. All of it washed over him, instantly easing the stress of the travels. The sadness of being without her for a prolonged period of time. Once again, he felt like he was standing on solid ground. He was home.

   Breath jagged, he drew away to study her flushed face. “Still doing okay?”

   “I think you can stand to persuade me a little more.” She found his hands sliding over her hips, cupping her backside before effortlessly hitching her up, forcing her to clamp her legs around his waist. The arousal straining through the layers of his robes settled perfectly against her throbbing core. “Maker, Owein. If we don’t get somewhere private soon, I don’t think I’ll have the will power to keep myself from tearing your clothes off.”

   “Is that so?” Owein chuckled.

   “Don’t tease, _Mac tire._ ” Speaking in Dalish earned her a predatory growl from her lover which did nothing to strengthen her resolve not to start pulling at his layers. She trailed her fingers along his bearded jaw. “You ruined me, you know that? I didn’t mind being alone, not having someone in my arms or constantly by my side. Then you came into my life and turned it on its head. And thank the Maker you did.”

   “Cassandra.” Hand on her cheek, Owein took her mouth once more, pouring everything he could into that single kiss. “I-I- Creators…”

   “I know,” She softly assured. “I know.”

 

De réir an chruthaitheoir- By the Creators

_Deartháir- brother_


	20. Unexpected News

  Two days later, Owein entered the hallway leading to the War Room only to be nearly bowled over by Cassandra. He tried to catch her by the waist only to have her slap at his hands with an intense disgruntled noise. “What’s the matter, _Leannan?_ ”

   Red face, Cassandra shook her head and proceeded to shove him out of the way.

   Brow furrowed, he looked to Josephine. The Ambassador was leaning over her desk, a deep frown fixed on her face. “ _Anail deantra_ What was that all about?”

   “I received a correspondence that Cassandra didn’t take all too well.” Sighing, Josephine sat heavily in her chair. “Take a seat.”

   Feeling like he had no choice in the matter, Owein took a seat in front of her desk. “Who was it from?”

   “The king of Nevarra.”

   “Oh.” Owein felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. “And the subject matter?”

   “That’s where things get a bit complicated.” She toed with the edge of the parchment. “It seems our Seeker is betrothed.”

   Owein took in a sharp breath. Horrors of the diverted future hit him hard. Images of his lover, pale and broken, filled his head. He hoped, prayed even, that certain circumstances in that time would never come into play since they thwarted Alexius and his time magic. “Oh,” Was all he could muster at the moment.

   “I know. Given your two’s current relationship, this may come as both a shock and a blow.”

   Owein’s forced a hand through his disheveled hair. “A bit.”

   Josephine picked up the letter. “It seems that her uncle had made a political play to get his family back into the good graces of current Nevarra Royalty. Trying to make amends, so to speak, for Cassandra’s parents attempt to overthrow the king.”

   “I’m surprised that Markus would want their daughter being connected with the throne at all, given the circumstances.”

   “Which makes Vestalus’s actions a bit of a puzzle. Since Markus has no heir in sight, Vestalus, somehow, convinced Markus to believe a union with the former steward of the king, would smooth over the sour taste left by the Nevarran purge.”

   Owein’s stomach began to knot. “The betrothal being between Cassandra and Marcus’s younger brother Ferdinand?”

   The ambassador cocked her head to the side. “Has Cassandra spoken to you about this previously?”

   “No, no. I doubt she is aware that I even know. In the future, the one Alexius sent me too, King Marcus forced the union, working with Samson to further the Elder One’s influence.” Owein found himself scowling. “Also, to help destroy the remaining Seekers.”

   “At least we can take solace in the fact the push for the union isn’t for Corypheus’s benefit, but rather to utilize the Inquisition influence to strengthen his rule. I’m sure there is a nice incentive for her uncle as well.”

   “I’m sure,” He muttered. “Markus send the letter?”

   “Ferdinand did.”

   “He wishes for the union?”

   Josephine snorted. “I’m sure he wishes a life of nothing but hunting dragons and living his days without an ounce of responsibility. But I’m sure he can’t even deny the power couple they would make. Famed Hero of Orlais, Left Hand of the divine, Seeker of truth and sister of another famed dragon hunter. It would quell any idea of removing the bloodline from the throne.”

   Rubbing his bearded face, Owein rested his elbows on his thighs. “I guess I can find comfort in the fact my _Leannan_ doesn’t find the idea all that appealing.”

   “She instructed me to write back, using her very colorful words to describe her utter displeasure.” A small smile crossed Josephine’s face. “I’m sure, if it was feasible, she’d go to Nevarra and deliver the words in person.”

   Despite the uneasiness in his chest, Owein snorted. “That I have no doubt of.” He held out a hand. “May I?”

   “It’s going to do nothing but upset you, Inquisitor.”

   Balling his fist, he dropped it into his lap. “Is there anything legally binding in all of this?”

   “I’m sure her uncle secured such a union in writing.”

   “But he can’t actually force her to marry, right?”

   “Possibly if she was to set foot on Nevarran soil.” Josephine hated she caused his displeasure to deepened. “I doubt the letters will stop and I am unsure if Markus or Ferdinand are brave enough to kidnap her.”

   Copper eyes glowing like hot embers, Owein’s head snapped up. “Over my dead body.”

   “Naturally.”

   “What else can be done?”

   “Perhaps if she was already married though that’s hardly the romance Cassandra deserves.”

   Owein pinched the bridge of his nose. “There has to be something.”

   “I don’t know much about Nevarran culture, but in Antivan…” Josephine stopped, thinking better to recall her words.

   “What?” He demanded. “In Antiva, what?”

   “Well, one could invoke a duel with the other party. Winner takes all.”

   “So… I need to issue a formal duel?”

   Josephine became flustered at the idea. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. A duel. You’re the Inquisitor. It’s far too dangerous. An unnecessary risk.”

   Owein slammed his fist down on the desk, flames flickering. “I don’t care. This is for Cassandra. _Mo Chuisle_ , it means my pulse, the very beat of my soul. I will take the risk.”

   While the romantic notion of it all made Josephine’s heart soar, she played on his sense of duty on the need of the Inquisition. “Do you honestly think Cassandra would allow you to take such a risk? Even for her?”

   _Well, no, She wouldn’t._ That didn’t mean Owein was going to stand by and do nothing. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

   “You know she’s going to find out.”

   “At the moment, only two people know the plan,” Owein pointed out. “If you don’t out me, then I can pull this off.”

   “Not to sound rude, but do you even have the proper skill with a blade? A duel must be fought with swords. You’ll not be able to use your magic.”

   “I have…” Owein deflated. “Some.”

   “If you are to go through with this, may I suggest you seek out Cullen?” Josephine suggested, picking up her quill. “He knows how to keep a secret. Shall I pen your response?”

   “No.” Jaw set and eyes pure steel, Owein pushed to his feet. “I would very much like to handle such a letter personally.”

   “As you wish, Inquisitor.”

   Taking the letter, Owein tucked it into his robe. “Thank you, Lady Ambassador.”

   “I hope I don’t live to regret this,” Josephine muttered after his retreating form.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o

   Cullen’s attention begrudgingly left his report to the visitor entering his office. “Inqui-.” He stopped himself knowing how much Owein hated titles. “Owein, what do I owe this visit?”

   “I, well…” Owein rubbed his bearded cheek. “I’ve come by seeking some lessons from you.”

   “Lessons?”

   “I need to improve my swordsmanship.”

   That perked the Commander’s interest. “Is that so? May I ask what sparked the sudden interest? I know Cassandra has tried before.”

   “Cassandra is the reason.”

   “Are you planning on crossing blades with her?”

   “Not exactly.” Owein touched the pocket where the letter burned a hole inside. “I have issued a formal duel to Ferdinand, brother of King Markus of Nevarra.”

   Pushing his reports aside, Cullen gave his full attention to the Inquisitor. “I think I’m going to need you to start from the beginning, my friend.”

   Owein plopped down in the chair in front of the warrior’s desk. “Got anything to drink around here?”

   “As a matter of fact.” Pulling open his bottom desk drawer, Cullen pulled a bottle of Antivan whiskey he stored in place of the Lyrium he had stored there. “I do.”

    “Then start pouring.”

   Three shots in and the entire situation explained, Cullen fell back against his chair, a bemused expression on his face. “You do realize that if Cassandra find outs about this ‘arrangement’, she’ll slice both our balls off.”

   Owein pinned the man with a glare. “Which is why this must stay between us.”

   “If she sees us sparring more than usual, she’ll ask questions.”

    “There is a grove outside of Skyhold.” Momentarily, Owein became distracted by the pleasant memory of the few nights he spent with Cassandra there. “I’m sure we can manage to slip out unnoticed for an hour or so.”

   Cullen picked up his glass and took a swig. “You really love her, don’t you?” It was truly a rhetorical question. He’d been there for the instant connection between the two and had the pleasure of watching their relationship progress quickly in Haven. Now, it was flourishing, leaving Cullen a tad envious seeing how his own relationship was hitting snags.

   “Yes, yes I do.” Owein proudly stated sitting up straight in his chair. “All my life I’ve never belonged or fit in. For years, I’ve been searching for the piece that had always been missing in my life. I knew, from the moment I saw her, I was meant to love her.”

   “I’m pleased to hear it. Cassandra is a great woman who deserves happiness.” Leaning forward, Cullen refilled their glasses. “A toast to your love and success in not getting maimed.”

   Laughing, Owein picked up his glass. “Your faith in me is astonishing, Commander.”

   Cullen paused a moment before he could finish the toast. “I’ll say this to you once again. You hurt her and I will feed you to a dragon.”

   “Noted,” Owein agreed before knocking back his shot of whiskey. “You’re a good friend, Cullen. Never thought I’d find myself saying that to a templar, even a former one.”

   “Life is a funny thing.”

   “Ain’t that the truth,” Owein snorted tipping back in his chair. “If you would’ve told me a year ago this is where I’d be, a leader of a heretic movement, the one called ‘touched by Andraste’, and sharing whiskey with the former Knight Captain of Kirkwall, I would think someone scrambled my brain.”

   The corner of Cullen’s scarred mouth lifted. “That still might be the case.”

   “What’s all this?”

   Face glowing at the sound of his lover’s voice, Owein tilted his head back, knocking him off balance and sending him toppling over.

    Behind his desk, Cullen broke into a fit of laughter.

   On the ground, Owein grinned up at Cassandra. “We are sharing some fine whiskey and relaxing.”

   “Relaxing?” Cassandra fought tooth and nail to appear indifferent about this scene before her. There was a slight hint of laughter in her voice when she spoke, her question directed at the Commander. “You, relax? I thought that was something you were incapable of.”

   Cullen flicked the nearly empty whiskey bottle. “This helps.”

   “Well, don’t let me interrupt.”

   “No, please do,” Cullen snickered as Owein struggled to get back to his feet. “I fear if he lingers any longer, he’ll be sleeping on the floor since I’m not about to carry him to his quarters.”

   Finally up right, Owein fixed his robes. “And here I thought we were friends.”

   Locking up the bottle, Cullen waved them away. “Go. I should attempt to finish my reports.”

   “Don’t work too much, _Dearthair_.” Hugging Cassandra close, Owein swept her out of the office, a few feet down the battlements, before pressing her to the parapets and skimming his fingers along her strong jaw, turning her mouth upwards to meet his. Given her mood not too long ago, Owein was pleasantly surprised when she leaned into him, eager and silently demanding more. And as always, he was more than willing to oblige.

   Blood humming, Cassandra drew away. “Bed,” She commanded as his lips trailed down her throat. “Now.”

   “You’re right.” Grinning, he tossed her over his broad shoulder before starting across the ramp that lead back to the Keep. The sound of her idle threats managing to slip out in between her heavy laughter put a spring in his step. Owein gave the puzzled looking Solas a smile and a salute to Dorian’s roar of approval from the floor above as he passed through.

   Once they were in their quarters, Cassandra felt the Inquisitor take a stance. She watched him eye the bed. “Don’t you even-.” Andraste help her, she let out a sound of glee the moment he tossed her onto the mattress.

   He was on her before she settled. “ _Mo Stor_.” He nipped at the pulse of her throat. “ _Ta mo chroi istigh’ ionat_.”

   With his hands moving and lips branding, Cassandra was quickly becoming breathless making her lose all sense of concentration. The whiskey must’ve loosened his tongue enough to for go common to this unidentifiable language. “Owein.” Twisting her hands in his thick locks, she pulled up until his copper eyes found hers. “I can’t understand you.”

   He eyes burned bright with need. He grinned. “ _Tabhair do bhéal_ _.”_

   That one she knew and knew well. Tugging, she fixed her mouth over his, swallowing his feral growl of pleasure. It seared all the way down to her toes. Hooking a leg around his waist, she rolled. Now perched above him, she deepened the kiss, her hands busy pushing open his robes. She sighed the moment she touched his care chest.

   _Maker’s breath._ He was always so warm, so inviting. Comforting. With him, Cassandra never felt safer or stronger. Owein Trevelyan, shape shifting mage, raised Dalish and keeper of her heart was truly her home.

00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o

      _The Qunari was dead. Cullen’s heart lurched watching the weary Hawke hit her knees moment after the Arishok’s lifeless boy slumped to the floor. Knuckles turning white as he clutched the hilt of his sword, Cullen would’ve rushed forward if Aveline hadn’t caught him firmly by the arm. He thought about fighting the Guard Captain but stopped at the soft look on her face._

_She knew._

_Cullen swallowed, fighting tooth and nail to school his features because if she only now picked up on his distress for Hawke’s wellbeing then Meredith and the others would be quick to follow._

_“Donnic,” Aveline softly called out for her husband. “Ensure the Knight Captain does not interfere. This isn’t a Templar matter.”_

_Cullen huffed for show knowing the redhead was ensuring that his feelings for Hawke stayed hidden. “On the contrary, Guard Captain. The streets are filled with destruction and blood.”_

_“From the Quanri’s. Not blood mages,” She sharply corrected earning a glare from the Knight Commander and a few other Templars. “This is a Guard matter. If you want to help, make yourselves useful and take an assessment of the damage.”_

_“I do not take orders from you,” Cullen growled, feeling her hand squeeze him in part apology, part assurance that she would take care of the woman he loved. “We work for the Chantry. Work to ensure the safety of the people from all threats, not only magical ones.”_

_“Are the injured people of Kirkwall not in need of your care and protection?”_

_“She is right, Knight-Captain,” Meredith stated stepping towards the kneeling mage. “Go see to the people. Ensure these damn things are indeed gone from my city.”_

_Watching Meredith close in on the heavily injured Hawke, Cullen’s panic began to manifest. Was she truly made enough to attack Hawke in such a public setting? For Maker’s sake! If Hawke had failed the city would be in ashes under the Quanri’s rage. Duty be damned! There was no way in Thedas he would idly stand by why Meredith brought his deepest nightmare to life by cutting down the mage. The woman he loved beyond reason._

_Also sensing the danger, Aveline moved across the room, inserting herself between the Knight Commander and her friend. “My guards will work alongside your Templars to make sure the threat is over.” Kneeling, she wrapped her arm carefully around Hawke’s shoulders. “First, I must see Hawke gets to a healer.”_

_Meredith stopped a few feet from the mage. “First there is something I would like to do. It will only take a moment,” She assured under Aveline’s hard gaze. She reached a hand down in offering to the new savior of Kirkwall._

_Hawke fought against the urge to look at Cullen knowing doing so would only cast suspicion. Head pounding and body aching all the way down to her bones, she reached up and allowed the Knight Commander to help her onto shaky limbs. She held the woman’s gaze, refusing to slink away from the challenge even as she felt Cullen’s watching them carefully. “I can give you a moment.” Wheezing, Hawke leaned against her staff, silently instructing Aveline to stand down. “I’m afraid that’s all I can muster at the moment. Any longer and I’m sure I’ll bleed out.”_

_Cullen clenched his jaw. That would be something Meredith would actually want. Donnic’s grip help firm reminded him his interference would only make matters worse._

_Meredith didn’t strike. Nor command her Templars to drag Hawke off to the Gallows. Instead, she proclaimed Olivia Hawke the Champion of Kirkwall, bestowing her with a title and praise on keeping the bloodshed of the night to a minimum by meeting the Arishok in single combat._

_Broken and bleeding, Hawke accepted it all with a slight bow of her head._

_“I look forward to seeing you in a few days, Champion.” Meredith was already turning away from the mage. “That should give you enough time to recover. We have much to discuss.”_

_Hawke hugged an arm to her aching ribs. “Very kind of you, Knight Commander. Hopefully, my insides should be settled back into their proper place before then.”_

_Meredith smirked. “Knight Captain, take a few men and assist the Guard Captain. Even with competent men, she’ll need assistance to quiet the streets.”_

_Snapping his heels together, Cullen accepted the order wordlessly. He feared his voice would betray the turmoil within._

_“Guard Captain, I’m sure you’ll find room for them for a day or two until the job is done,” Meredith stated, leaving with the bulk of her forces without waiting for an answer._

_“Fenris,” Aveline summoned the elf. “Get Hawke safely back to the Estate. I will send for a healer immediately.”_

_Complying, Fenris forsook his aversion of being touch as he slid an arm around Hawke’s waist. “Lean on me. Varric, lead the way.”_

_Head lulling to her friend’s shoulder, Hawke took that moment to find Cullen among the moving crowd. She nodded and despite the burning need to run to him, allowed her friends to whisk her away._

_Cullen wasn’t actually aware that Donnic still had a grip on him until the pressure released as Aveline moved to stand in his place. Pulling himself together, Cullen, as hard as it was, pushed Hawke from his mind. Citizens of Kirkwall were frightened, injured, and panicking in the streets. People he vowed to keep safe from not only blood magic but the unstable wrath of the Knight Commander. He prayed Hawke would forgive him for ignoring her in a time of need. “Me and my men are at your disposal, Guard Captain. Where do you need us?”_

_Aveline instructed both the Guardsmen of Kirkwall and Templars on the steps needing to be done to quell the hysteria gripping Lowtown and quickly spreading. Once they all had their orders, she eyed her husband, a silent command passing between them that had Donnic separating Cullen from the rest of the Templars._

_Gritting his teeth, Cullen braced himself from some type of dress down about the danger his feelings were putting Hawke in, among other things, when he felt something being pressed into his gauntlet clad hand. He looked down to find it was a key._

_“There is a secret passage that leads to the basement of the Estate,” Aveline whispered in hopes not to be overheard by the bustling occupants of the room. She explained to him where the passage was before adding, “Wait an hour. Two at most. Knowing Hawke, she will send Andres and the others away the moment she’s healed. Less likely for you to be seen.”_

_“My men…”_

_“U will ensure the area surrounding the passage will be empty. I’ll even leave a sack of clothing in the tunnel to make your movements easier.” Aveline squeezed the Templar’s hand. “I’m not sure how I feel about this new development, but I do know she will need you. Especially since…”_

_Cullen swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat. Since her mother died. The home was empty besides the two dwarfs and Marabi. He remembered carrying her through the eerily still Estate the night he found Hawke stumbling around Hightown drunk and gripped with grief. “Thank you.”_

_“Might want to wait on that,” Aveline muttered. “Until after you get there without being caught.”_

_0o0o0o0o0o0o_

_Sometime later, after Anders healed her, Fenris and Merrill fussed about, Hawke laid on the lounge watching the fire in the hearth dance. They tried to get her upstairs, to take a bath and change into fresh clothes before sinking into the softness of her bed. Hawke was far too tired and in to much pain to give in. After Merrill cleaned her up the best she could with a cloth and bowl of water, Hawke sent them all away, much to their surprise._

_She knew their hearts were in the right place and was overwhelmed by their genuine concern but all the fretting and clucking about made her think of her mother. Hawke ordered them out, even the help before the damn broke. Now that she was completely alone, tears burned and welled._

_Maker, how did her life become this? Life in Lothering didn’t seem terrible as she once believed. Hindsight was such a fucking curse. There were so many things she would change. Different roads to take. Relationships to savor._

_The sound of footsteps should’ve put Hawke on high alert, especially after the night she just had, bit somehow Hawke knew who they belonged to. She didn’t let herself worry about the dangers of Cullen’s presents or let fear take hold. Instead, she covered her face in her battered hands and let the sobs break free._

_Rushing forward, he dropped to his knees beside the lounge, carefully slipping his arms underneath her. Gently, he cradled her against his chest. “I’m here,” He whispered into her hair. “I got you.”_

_Hawke curled her fingers in his tunic. “Don’t let go.”_

_“Never.” Seeing her tears, hearing the weakness in her voice, sliced Cullen’s heart in two. “I’m never letting you go, Live. Do you hear me? I won’t. I can’t.”_

_“Cullen.”_

_Looking down, he splayed his fingers against her still bruised cheek. “Maker, Olivia. Watching you, sitting back while you took blow after blow, knowing any one of them could take you away from me… I’ve never been so terrified.”_

_Turning her head, Hawke pressed a kiss to the center of his calloused palm. “I was scared too,” Her voice shook. “Not of dying, but failing to protect the city. To protect my friends. You. If I fell, the Arishok would have killed you all.”_

_“You are the most selfless person in Thedas, Olivia Hawke.” He thumbed away a few tears. You risked your life, your freedom. Meredith could’ve dragged you to the circle.”_

_“It was worth the risk.”_

_“Andraste’s mercy, at the end, when you collapsed.” Grip tightening, Cullen tilted her face until her teary green eyes met his burning amber ones. “I thought I lost the woman I love.”_

_Startled by the deceleration, Hawke blinked at him. Was it possible? Maker, the man, a Templar of all things, actually loved her? She didn’t think it was possible. All her life, being a mage, Hawke resided on the fact she would never have what her parents did. The world was far too volatile for anyone to see past her magic to get to know her. Let alone accept her magic and love her despite being branded an abomination by the Chantry._

_“You love me?” Hawke quietly asked._

_Cullen nodded. “I knot it’s impossible and anything but simple because I’m a Templar and you’re a mage. I’m a broken man, with demons and baggage, none that should be anyone’s burden but my own. I have nothing to offer you. No money or title outside the Order. All I have is my heart and unyielding love.”_

_“That is more than enough,” She interrupted his rambling with a searing kiss that left them both breathless. “And the thing about demons and baggage is when you love someone you don’t mind shouldering its weight.”_

_Cullen opened his mouth to question but promptly shut it. For once in his miserable life, he wasn’t going to self-sabotage something good. Especially the love of a woman such as Olivia Hawke. “Will you let me stay? Let me take care of you?”_

_“It’s too risky.”_

_“Aveline is doing a bang-up job on conversing my tracks,” Cullen explained. “She’s the one who gave me the key to the underground passage. Lent me clothes to change into.”_

_“Aveline?”_

_“yes. She knew you needed someone and couldn’t stand the fact you being alone.” Cullen skimmed his lips along her temple. “I couldn’t be there for you the night your mother… I won’t-can’t walk away again. Please don’t send me away.”_

_“Never.”_

Cullen awoke from the memory in the dead of night with a heavy heart. Sighing, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Thanks to Aveline, he managed to stay for two days before having to get back to the Gallows and before he departed, he knew that his life would never be complete without Olivia Hawke in it. Two weeks later, they snuck away in the dead of night to exchange vows and their hearts for the Maker and a few of her friends. Thinking of the moment, Cullen drew the chain over his head and cradled the silver band. He never had to chance to wear it. For years they met in secret, always careful to cover their tracks to keep Meredith from finding out, meaning he had to hide any trace of her. He kept the ring in a double locked box at the bottom of his trunk that he would take out when Meredith way away from the city.

   They had made plans to run away, to have a life together where they didn’t have to live in the shadows. Then Andres blew the chantry to the Fade and back and he lost her. Cullen couldn’t bring himself to wear the ring after that. Couldn’t stand to see the constant reminder of the life he neglected for the sake of duty. Of the love he lost.

   Hawke still wore hers, Cullen recalled. By the looks of it, she never took it off. Even when she thought he abandoned her and their child, she wore it. How could he let himself think that he lost her love for good?

   Cassandra had been right. There was no going back, but that didn’t have a future. And time wasn’t something that was guaranteed. Cullen wasn’t about to waste a second of it without Olivia Hawke by his side.

   Slipping the band on his finger, Cullen stood to go downstairs and wait for morning to come and Hawke to return.

 

_Leannan- Sweetheart_

_Tabhair do bhéal- Give me your mouth/Kiss me_

_Iarrthóir- seeker_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, I'm stealing from Joshpine's romance, but I thought it would be perfect for the hopeless romantic that Cassandra is :D Please let me know what you guys think.


	21. Reunion

   Hawke was sure that she’d worked through all the anxiety about returning to Skyhold and face Cullen. Then the bridge came into view and suddenly she found it difficult to breathe. Maker, she wasn’t ready for this. Even though his letter sparked hope, she couldn’t help but fear the rejection that awaited her. It wasn’t too late to turn back. The scouts hadn’t signaled her return, meaning Cullen would be none the wiser. She needed a few more days. Weeks even.

   “Buck up, Hawke,” Stroud’s gruffy tone broke through the champion’s stupor. “Never known you to back down from a problem.”

   “This is an entirely different manner,” She hissed back. “And you know it.”

   “Aye,” He softly agreed. “But avoiding it will only cause the wound to fester. Don’t you think, after all this time, you deserve to start healing?”

   Hawke found herself mindlessly playing with the end of her braid. “Maybe not. I am the reason my daughter is dead.”

   “That’s horse shit and you know it.” Taking her by the shoulder, the Warden jerked her about to face him. “You did everything within your power to protect your little girl. To give her a normal life.”

   A single tear leaked out of the corner of her eye. “But it wasn’t enough or she would still be here.” Maker, she wished, and not for the first time nor the last, that she succumbed to the wounds sustained that night in a fight to protect Evelyn. The simple fact she was still here while her sweet little girl wasn’t, was the reason Hawke no longer believed in the Maker or his Bride.

   “Serah Hawke.” One of the Inquisition centurions clicked his heels together and pounded a closed fist over his chest. “We were starting to worry. Mater Coram arrived about an hour ago. HE’s waiting…” Wordlessly, the centurion gestured skyward. “I’ll just sound the-.”

   “Please don’t.” Hawke cut the young man off, green eyes pleading with both centurions. She ignored Stroud’s gaze burning into her back. Maybe she was being a coward, but this was her life and no one was going to force her to do anything she didn’t want to. In time, Hawke would find a way to approach Cullen and all the painful memories between them. “My Warden friend and I are dead tired and simply want a bit of rest before racing the council.”

   A noise rumbled in Stroud’s throat, but for the Champion’s sake, didn’t contradict her statement. “I have been living in a cave for half a winter.” He caught the relieve flashing across Hawke’s weary face. “A real bed sound better than the Golden city.”

   Still, the men hesitated.

   “Look, I’ll take the blame from the Commander.” What was a little bit more of his wrath? If she was lucky, Cullen would talk to her before the Winter was out. Hawke hoped that it would be in a calm manner and not in the hostile fashion she last saw him in.

   Swooping down, Coram transformed beside the mage. “Let them pass. Owein already knows they’re here.”

   Hawke glared at the rogue. “And only Trevelyan?”

   Coram nodded. “For now. So, I suggest you hurry before word spreads.”

   There was something teasing at the edge of his voice, but Hawke didn’t have time to dwell on it if she truly only had a small window of time to sneak back into the fortress. “Stroud.”

   The Warden waved her on. “I’m sure the elf can show me around just fine. Go on now, Hawke.”

   Pulling the cloak further on her head, Hawke scurried across the bridge, keeping her head down in order to track the least attention. In the day she spent sulking around the Keep after her emotional reunion with Cullen, the fortress was all a buzz about her appearance. The price of coming back from the dead, she supposed. But that could be dealt with later.

   Now, all Hawke wanted to do was find a nice soft bed and a warm bed to soak away the discomfort of travel and the prospect of having to face Cullen. If she played her cards right, she could manage to avoid him for two, if not three days at the most. Hawke slipped down a passage leading her inside the outer battlement that took her around the to the back of the Keep without being in the open. Hopefully, by the time the meeting took place, Hawke would have a better grip on what to say. Maybe the Inquisition would send her on another mission. Having the idea to inquire about such a possibility with Owein, she ducked out of the corridor and straight into a solid mass of flesh.

   A pair of calloused hands caught her by the elbows. A pair that was painfully familiar. Panic bubbling, Hawke’s gaze darted around in search of an exit before reluctantly landing on Cullen’s face _. By the Light!_ After all this time, he still took her breath away. That shouldn’t be possible! She silently scolded herself. They weren’t the same people they were back in Kirkwall. So much had happened. Yet, his amber eyes, shining with emotions, still packed quite the punch.

   “If I didn’t know any better.” Cullen, digging deep to maintain his burst of courage, shifted closer until her palms came to rest against his chest. “I say you’re trying to avoid seeing me.”

   The first thing, besides his closeness, Hawke noticed was the Commander wasn’t clad in his bulky plate armor. She could feel the hard planes of his chest, the frantic beat of his heart as her hands began to drift on their own accord, fueled by memories from long ago. He was so warm. Always was, her mind kindly reminded. Regardless of the turmoil within, her body yearned to feel his touch. To drown in his taste.

   “I-I.” Hawke struggled to meet his gaze. “I figured you wouldn’t want to see me.”

   Shifting closer, Cullen angled his head downward. “Did you read my letter?”

   “Yes, but that doesn’t mean it erases all the hurt.”

   “Time will do that for us.”

   “Us?” Hawke hopefully echoed. Words tangled in her throat leaving her the ability to only say his name. “Cullen.”

   He lifted a hand to cup her cheek, stroking his thumb along the sharp angles of her jaw. “I know a lot has happened and there is still a log of forgiveness to be had on both sides. Even more pain to work through.” Cullen lowered his brow to hers. “I would like to weather that storm together.”

   “Cullen, you-.” Lifting her hand to cover his, Hawke sputtered into silence feeling the cool metal on his finger. There was no stopping the onslaught of tears or hope from springing up and taking over her doubts.

   “After I surface from the grief, it occurred to me that what I wished for every day over the last three winters has come true. The woman I love is alive. My wife.”

   Hawke nearly lost it right there. To be openly claimed as his wife, the wearing of the ring he kept hidden during their time in Kirkwall, was all she ever wanted when it came to the man before her.

   He gently kissed away the tears. “So much time has been wasted. Winters we won’t be able to get back. I won’t miss anymore, Olivia. We can have a life here. No more hiding or pretending to hate each other. We can be husband and wife.” Cullen leveled his gaze with hers, losing himself in the pools of green. “That is if you have me.”

   “Yes. By the light, yes!” One something between a sob and a laugh, Hawke threw her arms around his neck, crushing her mouth to hers. Since leaving Kirkwall, she had said that not having Cullen in her life didn’t matter. That she could go one with just the memory of being loved by him. Now, she could finally say it all had been a lie to keep her friends from worrying about her. He always brought her a sense of calmness, long before their relationship turned physical. In her greatest turmoil, he’d been there to see her through to the other side and still looked at her as a whole person, instead of something broken that most people did. To have him here, in her arms, at her side and openly this time, left Hawke’s head really.

   Cupping the back of her head, Cullen lifted until she was on the tips of her toes, deepening the kiss as it turned from hesitant to scorching. For the first time in three winters, his soul, the one shattered into a million pieces the night he lost her, felt complete, whole. His demons, his fight with Lyrium, his grief seemed to evaporate, even if it was a temporary feeling, knowing that this wonderful, maddening woman was back in his life once more. And nothing, not Corypheus or the Maker, could ever separate them again. Not as long as there was breath in his body.

    He carefully drew away, tears of his own streaming down his face. “Will you-you come with me?” He softly asked suddenly anxious about her answer. Just because she wanted him in her life didn’t mean that she wouldn’t need to ease into the idea. “To my quarters? I had a bath-I mean I hoped… I’m… Maker’s breath.”

   Hearing his stumble accompanied by the blush brought back fond memories, putting Hawke at ease. While there were plenty of bad memories, there was plenty of good underneath. “I’m glad to see things haven’t changed.”

   Cullen laughed under her teasing.

    “You had a bath brought to your quarters?”

   “I hoped that you wouldn’t push me away,” Cullen softly explained. “I understand if you need space.”

   Hawke silenced him with another kiss. “I think I’ve had enough space, Cullen. Don’t you think.”

   “I do.” Unbale to help himself, he gathered her close again. “Maker, I’ve missed you, Liv. I hope one day you can forgive me for the person I was in Kirkwall. For the pain I put you through-.”

    “None of that,” Hawke whispered, burying her face in his throat and breathing in his earthly scent that haunted her almost every night since they parted. “We have time to talk about all that. Right now, I now I just want to stay like this for a little longer before having that bath. Can you handle that?”

   “Yeah,” He sighed into her hair. “I can handle that.”

   Right around the corner, Coram smiled as he watched the pair sway, clutching one another as their life depended on it. After spending over a month with the Champion, his heart ached for the woman and the experience the Creators put her through. Losing a life, one you created, Coram couldn’t even begin to fathom the heartache. The utter sense of loss. Coupled with the fact she thought the entire time the man she loved had abandoned her and their child, it was no wonder the woman was a sarcastic mess. Coram had been around enough shems to recognize a coping mechanism.

   “I see that she didn’t get to escape after all,” Stroud spoke, leaning against the wall next to Coram. A smile pulled at his lips. “Almost like someone planned it.”

   “The Commander is a good man,” Coram replied, smiling himself. “I took the liberty of my expedited travel to give him a warning hoping it would spur him into action. I was not disappointed.”

   Stroud padded the elf’s shoulder. “You’re lucky. Hawke has quite the temper.”

   “Oh, I have no doubt about that. The entire trip to the Crestwood, the woman was contemplating on killing Varric. I’m surprised he made it back in one piece.”

   “Those two have a complicated history.”

   “So, it would seem.” Coram jerked his head. “C’mon. Let them have their privacy and I’ll show you to the guest quarters.”

   “Shouldn’t I go address the Inquisitor?” Stroud wondered.

   “You’re going to want your rest,” Coram remarked. “Things around here always seem to be moving. Who knows, you might be shipping back out in a day.”

   “A real bed,” Stroud nearly purred. “It exactly what I need right now. Lead on, Ser Coram.”

   “Ser?” Coram laughed as he flicked his own ears. “I think you’re forgetting something.”

   Stroud scoffed at the rogue’s meaning. “That shouldn’t matter. The Hero of Ferelden was an elf, was he not? And he saved the land from a Blight. I may be Orlesian but I never cared for their disdain for other races or class for that matter.” He slapped a hand against Coram’s shoulder. “You’re doing something about this blasted situation instead of standing around with your thumb up your arse. You’ll get no hatred from me.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

    After giving the large wooden door a quick knock, Coram slipped into the warm room, interrupting a conversation between Cassandra, Owein, and Leliana. “We’re back!” He happily greeted.

    “We were starting to worry.” Swiveling on his heels, Owein caught his friend in a back-slapping hug. “You said we. Does that mean Hawke and Stroud are here?”

   “Yes, I took the Warden to get some rest,” Coram informed. “He needs it after living in a cave for half a winter.” Coram took a moment to bow his head at the other two occupants of the room. “Ladies.”

    Clasping her hands behind her back, Leliana dipped her head ever so slowly, blue eyes watching her fellow rogue under hooded lids. “I’m pleased to see you’ve return unharmed, Master Coram.” She smiled at the delight spreading across his devilishly handsome face. “I must say, you look like you could use some rest yourself.”

    Laughing, Coram rubbed a hand over his stubbly cheek. “Believe it or not this is me not shaving for a whole month. We elves aren’t known for our facial hair.”

   “If Hawke is here, perhaps I should go find Cullen.” Cassandra pushed away from the war table, brow already furrowed at the prospect of hunting up the Commander. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to coax him out of his office. Maker knows-.”

   “Actually.” Coram stepped into her path to keep her from getting too far. “It seems the Commander doesn’t need any coaxing.”

   The revelation startled the Seeker.

   A smile tugged at the corner of Coram’s mouth. “I flew up to his office. Scaring him mind you,” He chuckled along with Leliana. “Told him that she was thinking of hiding from him and he better do something.”

    “And?” Cassandra softly demanded. “What happened?”

   “Let us just say that we shouldn’t expect to see them until at least morning meal,” Coram replied and swore the warrior was about the jump up and down. “Perhaps we could get a runner to leave a tray or something outside the office door.”

    “Right, right.” Beaming, Cassandra bolted for the door. “I’m going to tell Rylen to keep everyone away from the tower!”

    Shaking his head, Owein laughed. “I still can’t believe how much of a hopeless romantic she is.”

   “It’s all those books she reads,” Leliana commented watching the Inquisitor’s expression shift.

   “What books?” Owein remembered catching her reading the Tale of the Champion by the frozen lake and her trying her best to cover it up as ‘research.

   The Spymaster smiled. “You should ask her sometime.”

   “Hmmm…”

    “Since the Commander and the Champion are settled as well as the Warden, I’m going to go freshen up myself.” He tossed Leliana a playful look. “And to shave, since I’ve been rudely told it doesn’t suit me.”

    Leliana’s lips curved wider. “I never said that, Master Coram. In fact, it adds to your charm.”

   Coram grinned. “Does it now?”

    “Charm,” Owein playfully scoffed as he clasped a hand over his friend’s shoulder. “Maybe you can use this so-called charm with your woman friend.”

    A blush dusted the elf’s cheek.

   “Hey, Leliana.” Oblivious to the discomfort briefly flashing across Coram’s face, Owein turned to the Spymaster. “You know everything about everything. Do you know who this mysterious woman is?”

    Leliana calmly stared at the mage. “As much as it pains me to admit this, Trevelyan. I do not know everything about everything. Whomever this mystery woman is should count herself lucky to have the attention of someone like Master Coram. Now, since this meeting is clearly over.” She stepped around the pair. “I have some reports to go over. Welcome home, Master Coram.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

    Even with a few Winters apart under their belt, waking up surrounded by Cullen was one of the greatest comforts and most natural thing to Hawke. Something she dearly missed in their time apart. The warmth. The contentment. Even a sense of protection. Every morning, even when she fell asleep cursing his name, Hawke would wake reaching and hoping that he would magically be there. Which was odd considering how few nights they actually shared a bed. Cullen would sneak away from the Gallows and through the secret passage to leave the same way before sunrise, always concealed by darkness.

   Opening her eyes, Hawke found herself bathed in the rays of the early morning sun shining down through the hole in Cullen’s roof. Oh, how things had changed. They could actually be husband and wife. Cullen wouldn’t have to pretend not to care if she was hurting in his presence or if snarl at her when talking. Sometime during their isolation, one of his men was brave enough to knock on the door, thankfully to deliver food and not drag the Commander back to work, and much to Hawke’s delight, Cullen happily pulled her against him while introducing her to Rylen. A prelude to how life would be like to them she hoped.

    Cullen’s soft whimpers of distress pulled Hawke from her world of thought and pushing up into a sitting position. Her husband’s face was contorted, pain etched into the lines as soft mummers slipped from his lips. Nightmares. It seemed like he still hadn’t been able to outrun them. “Cullen.” Hawke gently cupped his cheek, turning his face towards hers. She remembered all too vividly the nights she would wake after their brief slumber to him thrashing madly about on the bed, screaming out in agony as if someone was running him through with a sword. He told her that she was one if not the only thing to pull him out. “It’s alright, my love. You’re safe.”

    Cullen came awake on a strangled gasp, heart galloping in his chest and throat tight with terror. His mind still stuck in the Fade, saw Hawke as a manifestation of his night terror sending him into a panic attack. “No.” Unable to get a full breath in, he tried to dislodge himself from her touch and the bed, but the sheets tangled around him like iron chains, the very same used on him in the Ferelden Circle, keeping him in place. “You’re not real. Not real.”

    The sound of his voice, so broken and small, tore at Hawke’s soul. Blinking back tears, she gently pressed her lips to his, coaxing him fully out of the Fade with her gentle touches. “I’m real. Come back to me,” She softly whispered watching his amber eyes slowly start to focus on the world around him. On her. “You’re safe. We’re both safe.”

    Clarity came slamming back into Cullen. Weak, he fell back against the pillows, his body throbbed as if he went a couple of rounds with a horde of dragons. He let out a huff of breath. A horde of dragons seemed easier than facing the demons of his past. “’Liva?”

    “Right here, my love,” She whispered, trailing the tips of her fingers along his scarred lip. “Bad dream?”

    “Always are,” He heavily sighed trying to even his breathing. “Without Lyrium, they’re worse.”

   The thought was enough to freeze her heart. “Cassandra told me you stopped taking it.” She’d wanted to bring it up during the night but was far too afraid to break the spell of their reunion. “The notion scares me, Cullen. We saw what happened to those in Kirkwall.”

   His eyes snapped to hers. “I wouldn’t be bound to that life. Not after it took everything from me.” Carefully, he clasped a hand over her wrist. “I should’ve stopped sooner. Left sooner.”

   “Cullen…” Hawke didn’t want him to start down the road of guilt by questioning his choice to stay in Kirkwall instead of fleeing back to Ferelden not long after they exchanged vows.

    “I was afraid of who I would be if I stop. That I couldn’t be someone you could love.”

   She propped herself up on her elbow, starring down at him. “That’s absurd-.”

   “I didn’t want to lose you,” His voice dropped as it filled with sorrow. “And I lost you in the end anyway. I realized the suffering of stop would never compare to the suffering I felt losing you and when Cassandra came to offer me this position, I took the chance to cut all my ties to the crumbling order.”

   “If this kills you.” Hawke’s breath hitched just thinking about it. “I just got you back.”

    “It hasn’t killed me yet.”

   “That’s not funny.”

    He brushed the hair off her shoulder. “I asked Cassandra to… Watch me. To relieve me of duty if I am compromised. I think there are times I should take it. Maybe if I had, Haven would’ve happened. Some days the pain is too much that I nearly give in. I know that if I start taking it again, things would be easier.”

   “Easier doesn’t mean better, Cullen.” Leaning forward, she pressed her brow to his. “As much as the idea scares me, I admire what you’re doing. Trust in yourself, my love.”

   “That’s a tall order.”

   “Then trust in your family,” Hawke suggested. “They only want the best for you. I want the best for you and will support you in any way I can.”

   “Maker,” Emotions flooded Cullen’s voice. “I still can’t believe that this is real. That you’re really here.”

   “You better get used to it as I’m not going anywhere.”

    The corner of his mouth lifted. “You’ll find no complaint from me.”

    A knock came from the floor below before Cassandra’s voice came up the ladder. “I know that you have a lot of catching up to do, but we need you to tare yourselves away from one another long enough to talk about Crestwood. Morning meal is being served now and we will be meeting in the War Room after that. After that, you two can go back to making up for lost time.”

   “We’ll be down in a bit,” Hawke called out.

   “Hawke, I brought you some fresh clothes,” Cassandra informed. “If I have to come back, I’m bringing Dorian and Bull to drag you out of bed. At least I can keep my mouth shut.”

    Cullen groaned. “We’ll be there.”

   Hawke waited until after she heard the door close to speak. “I like her.”

   The Commander arched a brow. “I thought you might be a bit sour for ‘kidnapping Varric.”

   “I’m sure he’s partly to blame in whatever store he told her back in Kirkwall. But knowing how much she’s done for you, to help you through grief that I caused, makes disliking her quite hard. Plus, she a tad scary when she’s angry.”

   “You have no idea.”

   “Come on.” Hawke drew herself up into a sitting position. “As much as I don’t want to, we need to return to the real world.”

   He coughed her gently by the arm. “I love you.”

   Her heart melted under the warmth of his words and she smiled, something she hadn’t done much of since losing Evelyn. “I love you too.”

    Stepping outside the office sometime later, breaking their perfect bubble, left Hawke feeling edgy and unsure of herself. She pulled self consciously at her robes wondering if she should go back to her things and change into leathers to make people around her more at ease. Somewhere in her muddled brain, she reminded herself that the Inquisitor was a mage, a shapeshifter, and they accepted him just fine. Hawke was knocked of her stupor when Cullen took her hand and tucked it in the crook of his elbow.

    He smiled warmly down at her. “No more hiding, Olivia Rutherford.”

   Heart overflowing with sheer emotions, Hawke beamed. “That has quite a different ring to it being said aloud.”

   He rubbed his finger over the ring on her finger. “I wasted too many winters to call you that.”

   “No dwelling, Cullen. At least not yet. I know we will have to face those problems before too long, but let us heal a bit first.”

   “You’re right.”

   She flashed him a grin. “Always am.”

   Playfully rolling his eyes, Cullen tugged her along towards the Keep. “C’mon.”

   Crowding him, elated by the simple fact she could, Hawke happily followed him through a room with a rather breath-taking mural, through the main hall, and to the large kitchen where several members of the Inquisition were eating their morning meal. Owein immediately grinned at her while Cassandra gave her a slid nod, happiness shining on her face.

   Cullen squeezed her hand. “Good morning everyone.” He waited until all eyes were on them before he smiled, a sight that took a few by surprise. “I would like you all to meet my wife.” Pride flooded his voice. “Olivia Rutherford.”

   “Damn,” Bull raised his large mug in a salute. “I didn’t even know the Commander could smile!”

   “It’s a bit terrifying if you ask me,” Sera mumbled.

   “Come and sit down,” Cassandra beckoned. “Food is getting cold.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

   “You’ve been busy.”

   Halfway through the secret passage back into the Keep, Owein froze at the sound of Coram’s voice. “You alone?” He softly asked lingering in the darkness until he got his answer.

   “I am,” Coram laughed at the sigh coming from his friend. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’re up to something. Something you don’t want the _Iarrthóir_ to know.”

   “You would be right.” Thinking it safe enough, Owein stepped out into the hallway.

   Coram’s gaze flickered to the sheathed blade the Inquisitor carried before noting his sweat-soaked hair sticking out in every which way. “This is the third time in less than a fortnight I’ve noticed you sneaking away. Don’t think Cassandra hasn’t noticed.”

   Owein’s spine stiffened. “Has she asked you to follow up on me?”

   “No. She respects that perhaps you need space with the weight placed on your shoulders being the Inquisitor.” Coram tilted his head. “What have you been up to?”

   “Training,” He answered.

   “Doesn’t that usually take place in the courtyard?”

   “This is, um... Personal.”

   “Personal?” Coram echoed following the mage as he started down the passageway. “Going to tell me about it?”

   Owein shot a look over his shoulder. “Going to tell me about the mystery woman?” He grinned at the rogue’s expression. “Thought I would let it go, didn’t you?”

   “I was hoping…”

   “Why?” Stopping, Owein turned. “Do you think I won’t understand? Or support you?”

    Coram hated that his friend thought such things. If anyone would understand the turmoil of falling for a shem it would be Owein. “That’s not it,” He softly whispered. “You know our culture. You know that such matters are meant to strengthen the clan.”

   Owein stopped, giving his full attention to the rogue. He figured that perhaps whoever had his attention was something of a passing fancy since Coram knew nothing of life other than living within the clan. Hearing the weight of his words told Owein how much his friend was struggling because it was far more than that and no his sense of duty and matters of the heart were at war. Coram had always been the most welcoming to outsiders and their ways, though careful never to lose his heritage and its traditions. “This woman. Is she your _anam cara?”_

   Coram’s gaze fell to the floor. “It feels like it,” He whispered afraid if he spoke it to loud the Creators would lash out at him.  

   “Does she feel the same?”

   “I-I am not sure. I know that she feels the pull between us, but can’t bring myself to find out more.”

   Owein clasped a hand over his friend’s shoulder. “If I can give you any advice, it’s don’t wait. I know that sounds easy and I know that your feelings for a human are something you have to work out on a level I don’t understand. But, our quest, it’s dangerous and can rob of us such opportunities.” He grew silent for a moment, recalling the night that Haven fell and how close he came to losing Cassandra. “Plus, if she is your _anam cara,_ you don’t want to miss a moment with her.”

    Coram let out a soft sigh. “All I can say is, I’ll think about your words.”

   Owein squeezed the elf’s shoulder. “I’m always here if you need to talk again.”

   “As I am.” Coram pointed to the sword. “Now back to this. What, thought I would forget about it?”

   Having his own words thrown at him made Owein chuckle. “You can’t tell Cassandra.”

   “Why not?”

   “Because she’ll neuter me.”

   “And why would she do that?”

   “Because I have issued a formal duel for the prince of her home country that is seeking her hand in marriage.”

    Coram’s hazel eyes rounded. “Oh.”

   “She thinks my position too important to risk such things for her sake, but I beg to differ.”

   “Who is teaching you?”

   “Cullen. Other then Josephine, no one else knows.”

   “Well, he has his work cut out for him that’s for sure,” Coram commented as the clan gave up on teaching him the way of the sword not long after he official joined the clan. “And you do to if the _Iarrthóir_ finds out about this.”

   Owein’s shoulders hunched. “Don’t I know it.”

 

 _anam cara-_ soul friend/mate.

 _Iarrthóir-_ Seeker

 


	22. Stubborn Minds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block is no joke! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update, but writing has been a struggle. Enjoy this chapter that I managed to get done in time for unofficial Dragon Age Day! 
> 
> All mistakes are my own. I'm actually going back and trying to catch the one in previous chapters.

   Owein was surprised to find Cassandra’s usual spot empty as it was early evening which was her favorite time of day to get some practice in. Curious, he found a book dropped almost in haste in the tall grass behind the training dummies. He smiled at Varric’s name written on the spine. This wasn’t ‘Tale of the Champion’ that he had come quite familiar with since he acquired Cassandra’s copy back in Haven. Owein turned over the over to see a woman with blazing red hair, dressed in armor, and holding a sword high above her head with the words Swords and Shields written on top.

   Before curiosity could get the better of him, his attention shifted to the Seeker’s raised voice coming from the forge. Had the dwarf gone and piss her off again? Tucking the book into his belt, Owein stalked across the courtyard half intending Cassandra to rip Varric apart. While fences were being mended, he still had a sour taste in his mouth where Varric was concerned. His mind took a different turn when he saw Cullen and Cassandra going at it with Hawke standing alongside Cassandra, arms folded and seem to agree with whatever the Seeker was trying to say.

   “You asked for my opinion, and I gave it to you,” Cassandra firmly stated. “Why would you expect to change?”

   Cullen’s golden eyes became inflamed with rage. “I expect you to keep your words. It’s relentless. I can’t-.”

   “You give yourself too little credit,” Cassandra shot back looking quickly at Hawke to see if she wanted to jump in. By the haggard look on the Champion’s face, it would seem she’d already tried to get through to Cullen to no avail.

    Cullen scrubbed a hand over his tired face. “If I’m unable to fulfill what vows I kept, then nothing good has come of this. Would you rather save face than admit-.”

    Owein winced at the Commander’s choice of words. Later, he was sure that Cullen would feel some sort of remorse for being so harsh when all she was trying to do was help him.

   Noting his approach, Cullen abruptly cut off and stalked towards the door and whispering an apology on his way.

    Cassandra rolled her eyes to the heavens. “And people say _I’m_ stubborn. This is ridiculous.”

   “Well, you are stubborn in your own way,” Owein quipped hoping to ease some of the tension in the room. “This about his choice with Lyrium?”

    “Yes, he was not interested in my judgment today,” Cassandra filled it before turning her attention back to Hawke. “Cullen asked that I recommended a replacement for him.”

  “What?” Owein softly demanded. “Why?”

   “I think his night terror set it off.” Hawke wrapped her arms around herself trying to find warmth left in the wake of her head splitting argument with her husband. “He told me that without Lyrium they’re worse.”

    Owein frowned at the sorrow in the Champion’s voice. “What was this one about?”

   “Evelyn.” Hawke fought to keep the surging emotions from taking her over. “My supposed death. The destruction of Haven. The demons in his head have all convinced him that none of it would’ve happened if he was still taking Lyrium. He’s convinced himself that bad things will continue to befall him and the Inquisition if he continues on this path.”

   “Then we need to change his mind,” Owein stated looking between the two women. “We can’t let him destroy all the progress that he’s made over the last year. It would destroy him even more.”

   Hawke let out a small sigh. “I agree wholeheartedly, but he’s not listening to us.”

   Owein blinked at them. “Wait, me?”

    Hawke nodded. “You’re a good friend to him, Owein. He cares for you a great deal and as much as he doesn’t want to disappoint me, he doesn’t want to do that with you.”

   “Templars are bound to the Order, mind, and soul, with someone always holding their Lyrium leash.” Cassandra lifted her gaze to her lover. “Cullen has a chance to break the leash, to prove to himself-and anyone who would follow suit-that’s possible. He can do this. I knew that when we met in Kirkwall.”

   “Yes, but me?” Owein asked again.

    “Both of our attempts have led to scream matches and massive headaches,” Hawke explained. “I want to help my husband and all I can do at the moment is to put my trust in you to try to reach him. He doesn’t need Lyrium, Owein. Deep down he knows that we just need him to open his eyes.”

   “Okay. Okay,” He spoke again less confident than before. “Any advice?”

   The corner of Hawke’s mouth twitched ever so slightly. “He’s a stubborn one when he wants to be.”

   Owein winked at Cassandra. “Good thing I have some practice dealing with a stubborn woman or two.”

   “You flatter me once again, _mac tire._ ”

   “We’ll give you space, but will be nearby if you need us,” Hawke assured. “I promise his bark is worse than his bite.”

    “That’s… Comforting,” Owein settled on before turning towards the door.

   Cassandra moved to place her arm around the Champion’s shoulder, hating seeing the sorrow once again in her glass green eyes. “Let’s give them a moment so you can catch your breath. Arguing with him is never easy.”

   Hawke rubbed her throbbing temples. “You held your own quite well.”

   “As Owein pointed out, I’m quite a stubborn woman. No one has bested me yet, though many have tried.” Cassandra gave her a comforting squeeze. “Come.”

   Owein noted a blur of motion coming towards him the moment he entered Cullen’s office. Fade stepping across the room, he settled in time to watch the object the Commander hurl shatter against the door. “Well, I know you’ve got quite the aim from our sparring sessions, so I’m assuming you weren’t going after me.”

   “Maker’s breath!” Cullen’s head jerked up, eyes rounded in horror. “I didn’t hear you enter. I-I.”

   “Talk to me, Cullen,” Owein softly begged wanting the Commander to tell him instead of bringing it up himself. He didn’t want Cullen to think people were conspiring behind his back about his ability to perform.

   “Listen, you don’t have to-.” Suddenly, Cullen’s strength left him, leaving him swaying and clutching the edge of his desk as his vision began to gray. He didn’t fight when Owein helped him sit in his chair. “I’m taking it you know.”

   Owein hated how pale the Warrior had become. He quickly searched around for a pitcher of water and a cup. “Bits of it.” Owein pushed the filled cup into Cullen’s trembling hands. “And before you get crossed at Cassandra, it was a slip and hasn’t elaborated much about your choice.”

   Cullen refused to lift his gaze. “You must think me foolish. Crazy, even. Weak.”

   “Weak?” Owein echoed. “Creators, Cullen, I’m in awe that you’ve managed to cut your leash. I admire you-.”

   “Admire me? Owein, look at me.” Now, Cullen looked up gesturing to his haggard appearance. “I’m a mess. I can’t think straight. All I can think about is taking the damn Lyrium again. Damn it, if I was taking it so much could have been different.”

   “That’s horse shit,” Owein shot back.

    Kicking away from his desk, Cullen threw the cup to the ground and began to pace.

   “Why did you stop taking it in the first place?”

   “After what happened in Kirkwall, to Olivia… I never again want to be bound to the order- or that life any longer.” Cullen rubbed the bad ache forming between his brows. “Our doses were so high, making us that more depended on the order, meaning leaving that life wasn’t even a possibility. But I needed to leave. I should’ve left when Olivia asked me to. Innocent people died in the streets. I lost the love of my life or thought I did, it destroyed me. Can’t you see why I want nothing to do with that life?”

   “Sounds like good reasons to me.”

   Cullen whirled around to glare at the Inquisitor. “You should be questioning what I’ve done. At the Ferelden Circle. My time in Kirkwall.” His voice grew soft and filled with anguish. “The things… So much is unforgivable.”

   Letting Cullen continue, Owein crossed his arms over his chest and listened as it seemed that’s what the Commander needed at the moment. No raised voice or resistance. Simply a neutral ear.

   “I thought this would be better than I would regain control over my life. But these thoughts won’t leave me…” Cullen stalked back and forth across his office, ignoring any rational thoughts that were trying to break free. “How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause. I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry. I should be taking it! I should be taking it!”

   Owein jolted the moment Cullen’s fist connected with the bookshelf. Pulling on their friendship, he placed a hand on Cullen’s taut shoulder. “Forget about the Inquisition and what you think it wants. I want to know what you want?”

   Hanging his head, Cullen dropped his throbbing hand. “No.”

   “Then listen to yourself, Cullen. Listen to those that only want the best for you.” Owein squeezed his hand. “They wouldn’t fight you so hard if they didn’t think you were strong enough to do this.”

   Cullen snorted in disagreement.

   “You don’t get it do you, Cullen?” Owein softly asked. “You’re setting such an example. You’re showing others that life outside of the order, without Lyrium, is possible. It’s a struggle yes, but everything worth wild is.”

    “These memories have always haunted me- if they become worse if I cannot endure this…”

   “You can. I know that you can.”

   Cullen lifted his head. “How can you be so sure?”

   “Because you’re strong, resilient, and stubborn in your own right. Because you have people who care about you to see you through this because that’s what family’s do.”

   “Family.”

   “Let us help you, Cullen. Trust us.”

   “Okay.”

   “Now, come, let’s get you up that blasted ladder. You can use some rest.” Owein held up a hand to silence the argument he knew was coming. “Inquisitor’s orders, Commander.”

   Grumbling, Cullen reluctantly complied though it took quite the effort to make up it to the loft. Owein even had to resort to using a bit of force magic when his muscles became too weak. Maker, he was tired. Cullen dropped himself to the edge of the bed, eyes drooping on their own accord. It seemed like ages since he last allowed himself to stop and forget about the crushing needs of commanding the Inquisition forces. Hawke tried, but he would never allow himself to fully relax. Staying up until the early hours of the morning pouring over missives and maps to help the Inquisition gain the upper hand.

   “You look like you’re about to fall flat on your face.” Owein knelt to help rid Cullen of his boots. He smiled at the Commander’ raised brow. “I know this would be far more enjoyable if done by your wife, but I don’t want to have to wrestle you back up into the bed when you fall trying to take off your damn boots.”

   “Where is she?”

   “Lingering,” Owein assured. “Waiting for you to allow her back in.”

   “I always want her.” Cullen shrugged out of his coat, limbs suddenly heavy. “I need to apologize to her. Cassandra too.”

   “They’ll forgive you, so don’t beat yourself up too much about it.”

    “You know he will,” Hawke stated climbing through the hatch. “I’ll take him from here, Trevelyan.”

   Owein set the Commander’s armored boots aside. “You sure?”

   Hawke stopped to squeeze the Inquisitor’s arm, giving him a warm smile. “You’re a good man, Owein. Thank you.”

   Owein felt himself flush when she kissed his cheek. “Ah, well…” Sputtering, he started towards the hatch knowing that Cullen would be just fine under Hawke’s care. “I’ll linger outside the tower for a bit if you need anything.”

    Cassandra was waiting for him, leaning against the parapets. “Did he finally talk to you?”

   “Yes.” Sighing, he settled down next to her. “I’m sure after a good night’s rest, he’ll think of himself in a better light tomorrow. Well, mostly.”

   “He’s changed is mind about the replacement?”

   “It would seem so.”

   “Good.”

   “Would you have replaced him?”

   “Nope,” Cassandra replied with complete certainty. “If he was showing signs of poor performance, then it would be a different matter. He is simply having a low swing in his personal battle. It’s about time he realizes that he has more than enough people who want only the best for him and are willing to take the journey with him.”

   Owein bumped her shoulder with his. “I don’t know who is more stubborn, you or him.”

   The corner of her mouth lifted into a warm smile. “I was born in a carriage on the side of the road. My father claimed I was too stubborn to wait to come into the world.”

   “So, you’ve always been trouble?”

   “Would you have me any other way?”

   “No.” Owein grinned back at her. “I wouldn’t.”

   “Good because I’m far too old to start changing my ways.”

   “When I was looking for you, I found something that caught my attention.” Owein pulled the book from his rope and watched her smile fall instantly from her face. “Does Varric know how much of a fan you are of his books?”

   “No!” Cassandra made a grab for it only to miss as he jerked it out of reach. “Give me the book, Trevelyan.”

   “Why?” Laughing, Owein dodged her reach, cracking open to the first page. “What’s this one about? It’s not about Hawke. Is this his detective serial I heard about? What’s that called again? Hard in Hard Town or something like that?”

   “Give it here!” Cassandra had to stand now to try to grab it.

   For their safety, Owein pushed away from the edge of the wall before they both took an unpleasant tumble down. “You’re blushing which only intrigues me more. Better tell me what it’s about before I go ask Varric himself.”

   “Fine.” Huffing, Cassandra stopped her plight to get the stupid book. She had forgotten she even brought it down to the courtyard. “It’s his romance serial.”

   “Romance?” Eyes shining bright, Owein studied to cover of the book again. “Leliana did mention you had a weakness for such books.”

   “Maker preserve me.” Cassandra rubbed a hand over her face. She was going to kill her friend in the most painful way. “Can I have it back now?”

   “Maybe I want to read it.”

   “No, you will not!”

   The urgency in her voice left Owein baffled. “Why not? Maybe it might serve as some romantic inspiration.”

   “It’s not just romance,” Cassandra blurted out in sheer desperation now. “It’s… Smutty literature.”

   “Oh, really?” Owein’s warm cooper eyes found its way back to the book with far more interest this time.

   “They’re terrible and magnificent at the same time.” Cassandra wrung her hands together not use to being completely flustered to the point coherent thoughts refused to form. “He ended this one on a cliffhanger and worse still has no plan to revisit the series.”

   “Series, hmm? Now I feel like it’s my obligation to read these now.” Curling a finger under her chin, he lifted her gaze to his. “Maybe I-or should I say- we could find a different type of inspiration.”

   “You’re doing just fine on your own.”

   “I’m pleased to hear it.” He playfully nipped at her bottom lip. “You’re adorable, _M’eudail.”_

   “If you tell Varric-.”

   “You’ll feed me to a dragon, I know. Shall we go read a bit? Up in our quarters perhaps?”

   Her heart fluttered in response to him declaring the living space as ‘theirs’.“You’re incorrigible.”

   “Would you have me any other way?”

   “Nope.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

   “I don’t want you to go.” Slowly closing the door behind them, Cullen leaned heavily against the thick piece of wood two days later. They’d just returned from the war council where action was finally put in to place meaning that Hawke would be leaving the following morning with Coram ahead of the Inquisitor and his party. To help scout out the road ahead, but also to meet Stroud who already left in case things there were ugly.

    Stopping short of his desk, Hawke looked back at him.

    “I wasn’t going to say that,” He muttered mostly to himself. “I know you can’t stay behind, live a quiet life where nothing can hurt you, but I…”

    “Want to protect me,” She finished for him.

    “Yes.” Cullen pushed himself away from the door. “That doesn’t make me a very good commander does it?”

    As he approached, Hawke lifted a hand to his stubbly cheek. “It makes you human, a fine trait in a commander if you ask me.”

   “I just got you back.” The fear of losing her left him chilled down the bone. Covering the hand against his cheek, Cullen stared into her glass green eyes memorized by the flecks of golden embedded there. “I-I can’t… I won’t…”

   “I know.” She trialed her thumb along the scar cutting through his upper lip. For a moment, she let herself become distracted, forgetting momentarily the world howling outside their door. Staying in one place had been a foolish dream. There were innocents to save and a tyrant to slay. Perhaps, when everything was over, they would finally hang up their weapons and properly retired. Maybe even try for a family once more. “If it helps, I don’t plan on not coming back. You know that, right?”

   “I do,” Cullen was quick to assure. They had overcome some obstacles in the three weeks they fully stepped into each other’s lives. There were still many more to go and topics that couldn’t be breach while their relationship was still in its fragile state. But, Cullen knew, without a doubt, that he would never have to fear Hawke up and disappearing on her own accord. “That doesn’t mean something else won’t take you from me.”

   Heart hammering in her throat, Hawke pressed her lips greedily to his. The kiss went from soothing to hungry in an instant. The fire that started in Kirkwall still burned bright and hotter than ever before. “I will fight the Maker, his bride, and any other god up in the heavens before I let them take me away from you.” Throwing her arms around him, she buried her face in his throat. “I fought for so long for this life with you. I’ll be damned if I let it go easily.”

    He stroked a hand down her frayed braid. “Doesn’t mean I won’t worry.”

    A softly chuckle escaped her. “It’s what you’re good at.”

   “I’m going to tell Rylen to take over my duties for the rest of the day.” Drawing away, he tenderly kissed her brow. “Since everyone in the Inquisition is telling me to slow down, I doubt I’ll find anyone that will mind me spending what my time giving you a proper goodbye.”

    “I might have already told him,” Hawke shyly whispered. “While you were finishing up in the War Room, I ran into him in the main hall. He happily agreed and told us not to worry about a thing. What if we don’t show up to evening meal, he will bring us some food.”

    “That man deserves a promotion.”

   “At the very least.” Hawke climbed up the ladder, quickly dashing for her pack to withdraw a few pieces of parchment before Cullen made it up to the loft. Suddenly nervous, she clasped her hands behind her back. “I-I have something for you.”

    “Something for me?” Sitting on the edge of the bed, Cullen rid himself of his boots. “I have my wife by my side, surrounded by people I call family, and a clear head for the first time in what feels like a lifetime. There is nothing more that I want.”

    “You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Commander.”

   Hearing the hard edge in her voice, he looked up to see her face lost a bit of its color. His chest suddenly became tight. “Olivia?”

    “I don’t wish to sully our evening, but I would like to share them with you. You can wait if you want.”

    “Come here.” He beckoned her to sit beside him, that’s when he noted the folded parchment in her hands. “Never known you to be shy about anything.”

    “Times make us change.” Hawke handed him the first piece and watched him carefully unfold it. His crooked smile had her doing the same. “You told me that what scared you the most about the withdrawals, before I came back, was you were losing the memory of my face. Now, regardless of what is ahead of us, you will have this to look at.”

    Cullen ran his thumb over the perfect sketched face. “Who drew this?”

   “Cole did actually. The boy is quite talented.” Hawke handed him the other before she lost her nerve. “He’s unlike anyone or thing I’ve ever met in my travels. He’s helped me so much, even if reluctantly at first. I wish you would consider letting him do the same for you.”

   “That’s a tall order, Liv. It’s taken some time, but I’ve come to trust the boy. I know he’s here to help us in our cause.” Cullen played with the corner of the still folded parchment. “But he is still a spirit. Can’t say that the last one I met left me feeling particularly excited by his presence here.”

    “Cole is nothing like Justice or Anders.”

    Cullen couldn’t help but flinch out the sound of the mage’s name.

   “Perhaps in my time away, you could at least start talking to him more of a person instead of just minding his existence in the Keep.”

   “I-I will consider it,” Cullen softly promised.

    Hawke let out a small sigh. “That’s all I can ask, given the circumstances.” She placed a soothing hand on his forearm. “Know this one isn’t meant to hurt you. I-I…. well, open it and you’ll see.”

    Curious, Cullen complied and immediately was choked by the surge of emotions. This drawing was more detailed, even colored was added to the small girl’s golden hair and green eyes. Tears welled. “This is… Is…” Throat clogged, Cullen reached out to link fingers with Hawke. “Our daughter?”

    She didn’t have the strength to stop tears of her own. After over a winter of hiding her mourning, Hawke knew that in his presence that she didn’t have to do such a thing. “Yes.”

   “How?”

   “Cole, he, well…” Hawke pressed herself tighter against him, drawing in his strength to keep looking at the perfect drawing of the life they created and lost. “He did… I don’t know exactly… We were in Crestwood one night when the memory of her death found me in the Fade. I’ve buried it for so long, but talking brought it all back. I was a mess, beside myself really. No one could pull me out of it. Then Cole was there, touching my shoulder, eyes so kind as he talked to me. I couldn’t really understand him, at least not then. Then he pulled even more memories out of the darkness, good ones this time. Of our little girl, happy and healthy.”

    Cullen turned to rest his brow against her damp cheek.

   “I’ve been so blinded by my grief I lost that memory. Cole was able to see it as well as he described her as if she was sitting right there.”

    “Did she… I mean…” Cullen worked the words around the lump lodged in his throat. “Know of me?”

    Hawke touched a finger to piece of parchment, tracing the golden curls of her daughter’s hair. “Of course. Even gripped by the grief of losing you to my own foolishness, I never spoke ill of you. Not that didn’t stop Isabella from doing it.”

    Despite everything, he chuckled. “Of course.”

   “I wanted her to know you. I spoke to her about you every night, even had a drawing of you to show her.” Now his tears were following unchecked. She lifted a hand to his cheek once again, holding him tight. This was the most they really spoke of her as it was far too painful and neither one wanted to disturb the fragile peace between them.  “Even in my darkest moments, I loved you, Cullen. I’ll never stop. Not even when I’m dead.”

    “Will you tell me about her?” Together they gazed down at the drawing. “Our Evelyn. I know it’s painful…”

   “I would never deny you the chance to know our daughter.”

0o0o000o0o0

   Owein’s attention shifted from the idle conversation he was having with the Seeker the moment Coram stood with plate and mug in hand and moved towards the bar. Where Leliana and two of her scouts, both of the female gender, sat enjoying their own late-night meal. Any hope of gaining insight into who held his friend’s attention was dashed when the elf simply dropped off his stuff and started towards the stairs. After tracking him for a few seconds, Owein concluded that Coram was going straight for his room with no detours.

    “What’s that face for?”

   Cassandra’s question knocked Owein out of his stupor. “I don’t have a look,” He softly argued trying to school his features and failing miserably.

   “Friendly advice, never play Wicked Grace. You’ll lose the very clothes off your back.” Reaching across the table, Cassandra gently rubbed the crease in his brow with the pad of her thumb. “What’s wrong?”

   “It’s nothing really. I mean… I was hoping…” Owein let out a small huff of breath. “That Coram might have taken some friendly advice I gave him. Especially since he leaves for the Approach in the morning.”

   “Ah, well, such things need to unfold at its own pace.”

   Her comment took Owein by surprise, leaving him arching a brow in wonder. “You know who she is, don’t you?”

   “I do,” Cassandra replied as lying to him would cause her physical pain. “And, before you ask, I won’t tell you as it’s something for Coram to figure out on his own. No matter how much we might want to ‘help’ things along.”

   Owein opened his mouth to argue, thought better of it, and closed it. She was right of course. As much as he longed to his friend happy, Owein knew things could possibly backfire leaving Coram far more miserable than he already was. “Just tell me one thing, does she feel the same?” Owein watched her closely, secretly hoping she would subconsciously give something away of who this mysterious woman was. Sadly, the Seeker never faltered.

   “Yes, but past pain has left her heart heavily guarded.” The moment Owein tried to push further, Cassandra stood up to distract him with a soul-shattering kiss. A warm and pleasant feeling quickly engulfed her as a majority of the tavern began to mummer in approval. Feelings that intensified when Owein didn’t shy away from her touch. In fact, he happily pulled her down onto his lap, deepening the kiss. This, of course, caused Bull and his Chargers to cheer and began to toss out catcalls.

   Smiling, Owein drew back. “You’re distracting me.”

   “Is it working?”

   “Like a charm.” He nipped at her bottom lip.

   “You two get a room!” Leliana called over the roar of the noise in the Tavern, grinning at the glowing couple. It was nice to see Cassandra both happy and open with the Inquisitor. Galyan cared for the Seeker but was always reserved, almost distant with her when out in public. Owein, on the other hand, was always as close as possible, touching her so subtly that Leliana wasn’t even sure if he was fully aware of his actions. It was as if he was always starved of Cassandra and she of him. “Some of us are eating.”

   “Can it, Red!” Bull shouted back. “Let them continue.”

   Laughing, Cassandra gave her lover one last kiss before standing. Much to Bull’s disappointment. “Before we get too carried away, I told Rylen I would bring Cullen and Olivia a tray.”

   “Afterwards?” Owein playfully asked.

   “We can get carried away far from apparently eager eyes.” Cassandra loved the way Owein’s copper orbs darkened with a new hunger, sparking her own. “Clean the table and I’ll get the tray.”

   The night sky was crystal clear and the air a bit crisp. A nice change from the head that filled the tavern. Owein happily followed alongside the Seeker across the courtyard. “I have a question,” He announced.

   Cassandra sent him a sideways glance. “Owein, I’m not…”

   “I know, it’s not about Coram,” Owein assured. “The Inquisition went looking for Hawke in Kirkwall, that’s how you snagged Varric, but Cullen believed she was dead the entire time.”

   “There were some discrepancies in Varric’s stories that lead me to believe that even didn’t happen as they seemed that night,” Cassandra replied. “I voiced such beliefs with Leliana and would’ve with Cullen have I not found out about their relationship. I saw how much it affected him and with stopping Lyrium I wasn’t sure what that rumor would do to him. I thought it best to keep our suspicions to ourselves.”

   “I can understand that. I never know how to ask him why he thought Hawke was dead. The books depict them standing together in the Gallows after Meredith’s defeat.”

    “Yes, those are the sort of creative liberties that I’m talking about. What I found out from Cullen, before I even truly talked to Varric about it, was that Meredith struck out at the Templars that fought against her. He was flung against a stone wall and knocked out cold for three days.”

   “And when he came to, everyone told him Hawke didn’t make it.”

   “If I’d known they were married, I would’ve given him that hope in a heartbeat.” Cassandra frowned, stopping in front of Cullen’s tower door. “Perhaps I should’ve regardless.”

   “Honestly.” Touching her shoulder, he waited until her gaze lifted to his. “Nothing could’ve prevented their situation. If he’d known or not, it doesn’t mean they wouldn’t have suffered the loss that they did.”

   “Doesn’t mean I wish things could’ve been different.”

   “I know.” Owein knocked on the door before unlocking it with the key he fished out of Cassandra’s pocket. When he didn’t hear any noises that would dissuade them from entering, he called out, “Dropping off some food. Go about your evening.”

   “Did you happen to bring tea?” Hawke asked voice strained and hoarse.

   Cassandra resisted the great urge to inquire about what was wrong. She hated knowing their last night before Hawke’s departure was filled with sorrow. “Freshly brewed. Is there anything else we could get you?”

   “We should be fine,” Hawke softly answered. “Thank you.”

   Owein took the Seeker’s hand, tugging her along towards the door. “Then we will see you in the morning. Cullen, do your best to remember your wife has quite the trek ahead of her in the morning. Allow her to get some sleep.

   His playful jab did the trick, causing the pair above to laugh, even if it was broken.

   Cassandra softly shut the door behind them, sighed, and rested her head against the wood. “Every time I think they’re on some solid ground… Maker, it hurts my heart seeing them in such pain, knowing I can’t do anything.”

   “You do more than you know, _M’eudail.”_ Owein ran a soothing hand down her spine, hooking his arm around her waist to steer her long the battlements. He would have to find the words to get her to understand all she’s done, but figured right now they would fail to resonate. Instead, Owein kissed her scarred cheek. “Where did you get such a kind heart from? Your mother or father?”

   “I…Er… Well…” Cassandra blinked caught completely off guard by the drastic shift in conversation. “Personally, I don’t know. My brother always claimed I got my strong will from mother. So maybe, my father.”

   “Do you remember anything about your parents?”

   “Now look who is doing the distracting.”

   Owein shrugged. “We know talking about my family isn’t an option. It’s such a nice night to waste indoors just yet.”

    “I remember my mother having a wonderful singing voice,” Cassandra softly replied.

   “Did she sing to you often?”

   Now, she smiled. It was nice to remember the good things about her family instead of all the darkness. “Every night, I refused to go to sleep without hearing her comforting voice.”

   Owein’s eyes danced in the moonlight. “Can you sing, _leannan?_ ”

   Her cheeks started to heat. “I haven’t in a very long time.”

   “Is that so?”

   “I’m not singing for you.”

   “Yet,” Owein remarked earning him a halfhearted slap to the shoulder. “And what of your father?”

   “He also had gentle eyes. To go along with his heart, I guess.”

   “Then your eyes must come from him as well since they match your heart.”

   “You know what… I can’t remember the color.” Coming to a stop, she found her gaze drifting to the shining stars above. “I don’t even have a picture of them. I even lost my locked with Anthony’s portrait in it.”

   Owein brought her hand to his lips. “Then you’ll have to continue walking with me and tell me about them to help you remember.”

   Sadness chased away by his loving request, Cassandra happily obliged him.

  

  

 

_M’eudail- My darling_

_Leannan- sweetheart_

   


	23. Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I want to apologize for the lack of updates and wish I could assure you they will be more regular, but it seems that writing isn't something my brain wants to do lately. Please enjoy this chapter!

   “How are your dancing skills, Inquisitor?” Josephine asked peering up from her clipboard.

   “Well, none ever transpired in the Trevelyan household and not actually encouraged in the circle. I doubt Orlesian or Ferelden style matches a good Dalish folk dance. So…” Owein made a wide sweeping gesture with his hands then shrugged. “You can say such a skill is no existent.”

   Cassandra tilted her head with a curious expression. “Are you quite adapt at Dalish folk dancing, _mac tire?_ ”

   Owein couldn’t help but laugh. “I am and if you ask nicely, I might show you one some time.” He fixed his gaze back on the Ambassador. “Did you call a war council to simply ask if I can dance?”

   “Partly.”

   The mage’s face fell. “I’m not going to like where this is going, am I?”

   “Nope,” Cullen answered.

   “Great,” Owein muttered. “Come on, tell me. Put me out of my misery.”

   “I’ve made some inquiries to the imperial court,” Josephine started. “The sooner we deal with the Empress the better. The political situation is dangerously unstable complicated matters.”

   Owein rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Naturally.”

   Cullen rolled his eyes towards the heavens. “Everything in the Empire is a complicated matter. It’s the Orlesian national past time.”

   “Turn your nose up at the Grand Game if you must, Commander.” Leliana shot him a look across the war table. “We play for the highest stakes. And to the death.”

   “All while you cower behind masks,” Cullen fired back.

   Before Leliana could retaliate, Owein clapped his hands together. “Yes, politics, Orlais, so on and so forth.” He gathered Josephine’s attention again. “What does that have to do with my ability to dance?”

   Josephine tapped the end of her quill against her thigh. “The court's approval can sway the masses. They’re nearly as deadly as the Venatori. We must appease them.”

   “Listen, I lived in the woods for nearly half my life.” Owein resisted the urge to pull at his hair. “Leaving gaps in my knowledge and ability to understand the correlation of the threat to the Empress and my dancing.”

   Cassandra bit back a smile. “The Empress is holding peace talks under the façade of a Grande Masquerade. All the important powers will be there.”

   “Making it the perfect place for an assassination,” Josephine finished.

   “And I’m assuming sending word to the Empress about these threats is far too simple and shouldn’t be attempted?” Owein asked.

   “We’ve sent word,” Leliana assured. “But we have no way of knowing if any of them have actually made it to the Empress.”

   “And a private audience?” Owein inquired further.

   “Do you remember the reception you received last time we entered that blighted city?” Cassandra kindly reminded.

   “Hasn’t public opinion changed since then?” Owein’s discomfort grew by the second.

   Josephine shook her head. “In Ferelden, yes. Orlais, not so much. We need more of a political foothold-.”

   “Or more soldiers,” Cullen tossed out earning a glare from both the Spymaster and Ambassador. Outnumbered, he held up his hands in surrender.

   “Until we have more of an influence in Orlais we can’t hope to secure an invite to the ball.” Josephine’s brow scrunched ever so slightly obviously disturbed by the prospect of stopping the threat to the Empress. “Once there, to finally answer your question, Inquisitor, every action and word will be scrutinized and judged. You will be expected to appease them and their culture.”

   Leliana patted the mage’s arm. “Meaning you must learn the game inside and out along with dancing and other small details that will drive you mad.”

   Owein frowned. “Is it too late to resend my bid of Inquisitor?”

   Cassandra laughed. “You’ve already taken the sword.”

   “But I’m a mage!” Owein childishly argued. “It’s a literal paperweight on my desk.”

   His tone only added to the Seeker’s amusement. “Sorry, _Anam._ ”

   “Don’t worry, Trevelyan.” Leliana shifted her attention. “Cassandra will be both an excellent practice partner and company as you learn.”

   Cassandra sputtered a moment face turning red. “Excuse me?”

   “What an excellent idea,” Josephine agreed beaming. “It will allow him to be more comfortable meaning it will be easier for him to master.”

   “What a minute,” Cassandra tried to interject only to be cut off again.

   Josephine began to scribble feverishly on her clipboard. “I’ve read the field reports and everyone talks about the ease between you two in battle.”

   “Yes, but that’s fighting,” Cassandra countered. “Our-.”

   Once again, Josephine didn’t allow the Seeker to finish. “Dancing is a lot like fighting. Perfect! This is perfect! The first lesson is tonight since you leave in two days.” Still mulling over things in her head, she left the war room.

   Cassandra stared at the closed door. “What just happened?”

   Cullen’s scarred mouth curled into a smile. “Looks like you’re learning to dance, Seeker.”

   Cassandra’s gaze shit to Leliana. “If I’m learning so is he.” She pointed at Cullen pleased that it was his turn to stammer helplessly.

   “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you would rather chew off your arm than dance with me.” Owein feigned a pain expression, grabbing at his chest for good measure. “How you wound me, _Iarrthóir_.”

   Face burning again, Cassandra looked to Owein. “Of course, I do, Owein. I would-.”

   Owein smiled. “I’m teasing you, Cassie.”

   “Oh,” She quietly replied.

   “You’re very cute when you’re flustered.” Owein dashed out of the way to avoid being pegged by a mapmaker. “And angry.”

   “Drop it!” Leliana playfully snapped at Cassandra the moment the female warrior picked up one of the heavier markers. “Behave yourself!”

   Cassandra stuck her tongue out.

0o0o0o0o0o00o

   Pain. Searing pain shooting up his arm tore Owein awake, voice already raw from the screams that erupted in his sleep. Trapped in the darkness of the tent in the Approach desert, he began to trash and panic, desperately seeking the light. Owein blindly groped around trying to orient himself.

   “The monster has awoken.”

   Dread filled and weighted down Owein’s heart. “No! No!” Why couldn’t he move? No matter how hard he tried, he could do nothing but inch across the ground on his belly.

   “Off to spread destruction again? Do you think you’re making a difference? Look at what you did today,” The voice taunted. “You slaughtered many to claim that keep.”

   “It was filled with Venatori,” Owein weakly argued. “They do nothing but sow chaos in the name of the Elder One who is trying to rip Thedas apart. They’re evil.”

   “No, my son. You’re the abomination.”

   Left arm engulfed in pure agony from the flaring mark, he curled himself into a helpless ball. “I’m not… Not you…” Owein chanted. “I’m not a monster.”

    “Yes, you are,” His father’s voice assured. “They will all die in the end. You will kill her.”

   “No.” Owein whimpered into the darkness. “Cass… Cass…”

   “I’m right here, my love,” Cassandra’s soothing voice broke through the ugliness of the nightmare.

   Owein blinked, finding himself tangled in a blanket inside a tent, the green light from his active mark illuminating the small space. “ _mo bheannachd?”_

   “Right here.” Cassandra carefully slipped her arms around him, lifting Owein onto her lap. A struggle as the Inquisitor protested.

   “The mark.” Owein twist trying to pin it beneath him to stop any chances of it harming her. He gritted his teeth. There was another cry of anguish forming and he’d be damned if anyone else in the camp would hear it. He couldn’t handle looks of concern, pity, or doubt come morning. “ _Neartaíonn sé, Iarrthóir_.”

   “I know, I know.” At a loss of what to do, Cassandra pressed her cheek to his hair, grip tight, refusing to let him go.

   “ _Where the north wing meets the sea_

_There is a river full of memory”_

   Cassandra’s warm and sultry voice, lifted in song, was soft and comforting against his ear. The few bars were enough to cut through the darkness gripping him by the throat.

   “ _Sleep,_ _M’eudail, safe and sound.”_ Cassandra felt the tension slowly leaving his taut muscles. Memories, ones locked deep within her mind, of her mother cradling her in the middle of the night singing to help chase the nightmares away came kicking the to surface. Tears burned behind closed lids. “ _For in this river, all is found.”_

Searching through the darkness, Owein brushed the tips of his fingers along her jaw. The mark began to calm. “Don’t stop,” He pleaded sounding helpless and broken. His clan talked about _anam cara_ all his life. Trying to convey the wonders of finding that person that breaths life into your soul. There were stories, swapped around the fire and from family to family, about how an _anam cara_ could instill strength in their partner. To bring calm where there was turmoil. Light to darkness. Comfort to combat pain.

   On principal, Owein dismissed it all. For once, he didn’t mind fate meddling in his life.

   “Ears aren’t bleeding yet?” Cassandra playfully asked. She couldn’t remember the last time she sang in the presence of another person.

   “Your voice is beautiful. Did your mother sing this one?”

   Cassandra nodded wordlessly.

   Hot prickles of pain radiating from his palm, leaking into his voice. “Will you continue? It-uh-helps,” He whispered between clenched teeth.

  “ _In her waters, deep and true_

_Lay the answers and path for you_

_Dive down deep into her sound_

_But not too far or you’ll b drowned.”_

   Cassandra slid her hand into his left, linking finders to keep him from jerking away from her touch. Pain, hot spurts transferred by the mark, shot into her. Maker! How could he stand such a thing? Was this how it felt all the time? Cassandra didn’t want to think of the agony inflicted on her wolf every time he used it to close a rift. All Cassandra wanted to do, now and for the rest of her life, was take everything she could from him and make it her own.

   “ _Yes, she will sing those who’ll hear_

_And in her song, all magic flows_

_But can you brave what you most fear?_

_Can you face what the river knows?”_

This amazing, sometimes maddening, woman was pure magic. Her comforting tone and loving touch eased the strain of his muscles, smoothed the ancient magic churning violently in his veins. Eyes growing heavy, Owein burrowed deeper into her arms, her song wrapping around him like a blanket made of pure warmth.

   Cassandra continued to stroke her thumb along the jagged line running along his left palm.

    “ _Where the north wind meets the sea_

_There’s a mother full of memory_

_Come, M’eudail, homeward bound_

   _When all is lost, then all is found”_

    “Home,” Owein whispered mind clouded with sleep mark dominant once again. He was already slipping in the dreamless part of the Fade. “You are my home, Cassandra… My soul.”

   Smiling, she pressed a tender kiss to his temple. Though he wouldn’t recall his own words come morning, they filled her heart with a joy she’d never known was even possible. Maker’s light! She loved this man and it hurt her heart knowing this path he’s been set on or his mark could rip him from her life at any moment. They had to make each one count. Leave nothing unsaid.

   Cassandra shifted, careful not to disturb the Inquisitor’s slumber, laying out more comfortable on the bedroll. Tomorrow, she sleepily promised herself. Tomorrow she would find a time to tell him something he had to already know, but Cassandra wanted to give him the actual words. To leave no doubt of her feelings for him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

   In the morning, Cassandra didn’t awake instantly like normal. She stirred, slowly working her way through the layers of sleep, lulled to stay under by Owein’s calloused fingers drawing random patterns along her neck and his… singing? Warmth blossomed in her chest listening to her wolf’s voice rise and fall almost expertly to the same tune she used to put him to sleep only hours before.

   “You’ve been hiding things from me, _mac tire,”_ Cassandra whispered smiling at the startled pitch in his singing. “Caught you.”

   His fingers trailed along the shell of her ear, up into her wild hair to lightly scratch them along her scalp. She mewled, arching into his touch, making Owein smile. “The Dalish are quite fond of singing. I just could never hold a candle to them and took to only doing it alone. Mostly when bathing.”

   Turning her head, Cassandra brushed a kiss along the inside of his wrist. “I doubt you’ll find a shortage of people in the Inquisition that would happily listen to you.”

   Owein propped himself up on his elbow. “Are you among them, my lady?”

   Cassandra was pleased to see his copper eyes shining, completely void of the turmoil and demons amplified by the anchor that clouded them the night before. She splayed her fingers against his lightly bearded cheek. “At the top of the list.”

   “Perhaps when we return to Skyhold I can convince Coram to play his pipes and I’m sure I can find a fiddle somewhere.”

   “You play as well?” Cassandra asked pleasantly surprised. “Aren’t you a wonder, Owein Trevelyan.”

   He kissed the tip of her nose. “I have to keep you on your toes, _Iarrthóir.”_

   Expression sober, she stroked her thumb along his wind burnt lips. “Was it the same as before? Like that night in the Frostbacks?”

   Nodding, Owein took her hand and mindlessly studied her long elegant fingers. “I fear the more I try to distance myself from him, to be my own man, I’m only becoming exactly like him. I kill-.”

   Cassandra quickly cut him off. “Not in cold blood. We are in the middle of a war, taking lives is unavoidable, but I’ve seen you take every route possible to minimize the bloodshed.” Pushing him onto his back, she loomed above, keeping her dark gaze on him even when it was clear he wanted to look away. “You have done so much good. You’ve inspired. Made a difference.”

   “Only because of this.” Owein flexed his left hand.

   “No,” Cassandra argued placing her palm over his heart. “It’s because of this.”

   “I’ve faltered. The darkness lashes out-.”

   “You’re not perfect, Owein.” The corner of her mouth lifted slightly. “No one is.”

   Owein drew her down, their lips meeting in a slow, sensual kiss. “I don’t know. You’re pretty perfect to me.”

   Snorting, Cassandra nipped at his bottom lips. “Such a charmer.”

   Owein smiled. “You’re crazy about me.”

   “That I am.” Cupping his cheek once again, Cassandra gazed down at him, chest full and ready to burst from the emotions swelling there. “Owein-.”

   “Oy! You two stop paying at each other,” Bull’s booming voice came from right outside the tent. “We need to get moving. Coram just dropped by to say Hawke and Stroud are waiting for us at the ruins. Stated we better hurt. Something is going down.”

   The moment lost, Cassandra scrambled to her feet. Finally, after weeks of being in the Western Approach, they could finally move onto the reason they were here in the first place. “We can’t risk the Wardens moving one.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o

   This was why people fear magic, Owein silently mused fielding off an attack to the many abominations currently closing in on them upon the narrow bridge. Erimond was gone. Took off like a coward the moment his plan to take the anchor backfired. The Warden mages showed their colors of true desperations by resulting in using blood magic.

   Was the entire order at the end of their rope? Did the fear of the calling give them the justification to aligning themselves with someone like Corypheus? Could the Inquisition reach them in time to explain that it was the monster they turned to in hopes of salvation was the one misleading them with trickery in thinking their time was near?

   “Potion!” Bull yelled cutting through Owein’s cluttered mind. “I’m out.”

   Seeing Coram moving in the Warrior’s direction, Owein cast a barrier, wrapping it around Bull, tapping into his personal mana reserve to spread it to the approaching rogue. He was a moment too late. “Coram!” Fade stepping, a useless gesture really, Owein tried to reach for the elf, but Coram was already sailing over the edge. A shard, possible of ice though could easily be Red Lyrium, struck Coram in the chest before his feet clear the ledge.

   “Behind you!” Stroud tossed out his shield deflecting a spell aimed for the Inquisitor’s back. “Focus, Trevelyan. We’re being overrun.”

   Owein tore his gaze away, forcing the sickening feeling of watching his brother fall and readied himself, his magic flaring at full force. They would pay. They would all pay. And not just these mages. Erimond, the Warden, Corypheus. He was going to gill each and everyone one of them. Gripped by grief and anger, Owein caught one of the Warden in a Veilstrike by the throat, thrust out his staff projecting his magic causing the mage’s chest to implode. Owein released his hold and rushed forward to the next target thirsting for blood. The next one fell just as easily as his magic raged inside him in the most destructive way he’d ever experienced. Up until joining the Inquisition, he’d only ever used it in battle very sparingly. A part of him, buried beneath the turmoil, was quite terrified of what he could do to another person.

    Something sharp and hot hit Cassandra’s back, knocking her off balance and stealing her breath. Seeing through the pain, she pivoted, sword at the ready only to find the spot beside her void of enemies. Slightly confused, she twisted her head back, searching for a wound and didn’t find so much as a dent in her armor. Cassandra could’ve sworn…

   Her heart wrenched coming to the alarming conclusion that somehow, she was feeling her lover’s pain. Head jerking to the left, she found Owein kneeling amongst completely obliterated enemies, clutching his shoulder, blood staining his robes. “Hawke,” she called to the Champion fighting at her side.

   “I know,” Hawke pressed two gloved fingers to her temple, channeling her magic and using her mind blast to send their enemies flying backward. Thankfully, a few took the long plummet down to the cavern. “Regroup.”

   “The blasted things keep coming,” Stroud huffed clearly reaching the end of his endurance like the rest of the group.

    “Trevelyan.” Remaining level headed and the seasoned warrior she was, Cassandra dropped her shield, inspecting the wounded mage. There was a puncture would that sliced through the layers of his battle mage armor right below his left shoulder blade with an exit wound in the front near the center of his chest. A Terror Demon’s tail if she had any guess. They were nasty and deadly, not to mention drenched in poison. “We need to retreat.”

   Owein tried to shake his vision clear. “Coram.”

   Cassandra’s throat tightened. She’d seen the rogue being blasted from the bridge but couldn’t tell if Coram managed to slide into his other form before hitting the bottom. “I know _Mac Tire._ We need to get off this bridge. They’re closing in on us.”

   “No.” Dropping his staff, Owein lifted his left hand. The mark sparked to life as if drawn to a rift that wasn’t there. Even the hot spurts of pain were different. Oddly enough, the pull in his veins wasn’t crippling, it was almost controlled like it was cutting him in a new manner of use. “Get back! Now!”

   The others instantly heeded the Inquisitor’s warning with the exception of Cassandra. She helped him stand when his knees began to buckle under his own weight. Maker, it was times like these she was reminded how bloody tall the man was. “What are you doing?”

   “I have no idea. Properly something stupid,” Owein muttered unclenching his bloodied hand.

   “Whatever it is, better do it!” Sera Hollard from the end of the bridge letting arrow after arrow lose.

   Weak and near delirious from the rapid blood loss, Owein leaned heavily on the Seeker and thrust his marked palm upward. The air above them crackled as a green tendril shot out and, to everyone’s astonishment, forced the veil open and creating a rift. No demons came spewing forth. In fact, a vortex staring at the heart of the rift, pulling the demons and blood mages towards the center. A little more and they would be sucked inside.

   Cassandra tightened her hold around Owein’s waist ignoring the sharp prickle in her own hand, a different transfer of pain as she wasn’t actually touching his mark this time around. “Concentrate.” Seeing his strength start to wean, she gave him a firm shake hoping to prolong whatever ability he tapped into. Already their opponent’s numbers were thinned considerably having been lost inside the rift.

   Vision tunneling and the world starting to go gray, Owein used his remaining moments of consciousness to steal the rift he made before it spun out of control and started in on his companions. The last thing he remembered before the darkness took him was his warrior calling his name.

   “One more!’ Bull called out.

   “Got ‘em!” Sera effortlessly took down the weakened shade with a cluster of arrows. She blew her sweaty bangs from her eyes. “Just what did Inky do?”

   “Good question,” Hawke mumbled mostly to herself.

   Freeing her hands completely, Cassandra sank against the railing, cradling the injured mage tightly to her chest. “Olivia,” Her voice betrayed her, cracking under the strain of fear of losing the man she loved. “He’s losing a lot of blood.”

   Hawke dropped down beside the pair. “I’ll stabilize and then we’ll move him back to camp.” She hastily ripped opened the back of his robes since his armor was already shredded. The wound was only a few inches wide but the puncture was the problem. “Lots of internal injuries and poison.”

   “Work fast,” Cassandra urged. “Before we lose him.”

   “Someone get a bandage to apply pressure to the front.” Hawke placed her hand on either side of the wound, calling on the last remnants of her mana, focusing her magic into him and slowly began to knot the torn flesh back together.

   “Holy shit!” Sera’s high-pitched curse momentarily drew Cassandra’s attention away from the injured man in her arms. “Look there! Bird Boy!”

   “Coram?” Cassandra tried to look over the ledge of the bridge. She could vaguely see a mass not far below.

   “He’s hurt,” Stroud informed.

   “Get him,” Cassandra commanded. “I don’t care how you get down or if he’s alive, we don’t leave anyone behind.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

   Cullen was in the middle of discussing the alarming amount of Red Lyrium on the storm cost with Leliana and one of his lieutenants when the door to the War Room busted open. Someone shouted a warning, Josephine possibly, meant specifically for him only it came too late. No sooner had Cullen turned around was he being knocked on his ass from a solid blow to his jaw. There wasn’t even a chance to process what was happening before there was a weight on his chest and a flurry of fists coming for his face.

   “Jim!” Shouting for the Lieutenant, Leliana sailed over the table trying to dodge Cullen’s assailant’s attacks. “Josephine get the guards.”

   “On their way,” The ambassador hastily assured stumbling fulling into the room a bit out of breath from chasing the unknown man down the hallway.

   Seeing his opening, Jim tackled the man away from the Commander. Together, with Leliana’s help, they wrenched the swearing man to his feet.

   “Let me go!” The man with ink-black hair struggled against their hold. “I’m going to kill him!”

   “Not really the right argument to use,” Leliana twisted the man’s arm behind his back. “Good way to lose your head though.”

   Swiping his gloved hand under his bleeding nose, Cullen pushed himself up and off the coble stone. “Leliana wait!” His words stopped the Spymaster from freeing the dagger he knew she kept hidden inside her robes. “Don’t hurt him.”

   Blue eyes flared. “He came in here to kill you, Cullen. Very stupidly, but his intentions were clear.”

   “Get your hands off me!” The man seethed twisting in the rogue’s grasp. “I don’t have to kill him. I’ll settle for maiming. Castrations is also an acceptable option.”

   “Fucking Maker, Carver!” Cursing at the pain coursing across his battered face, Cullen used the edge of the disheveled War Table to stand. “IF you don’t shut your mouth, she will follow through and take your head.”

   “Carver,” Leliana echoed yanking the man’s head back by a fist full of hair. “Carver Hawke?”

   “Yes.” Cullen used his sleeve to mop up the blood streaming from the gash above his left brow. Trying to stunt the flow from his busted nose seemed like a futile effort.  “Olivia’s younger brother.”

   Carver shot forward, nearly breaking the Spymaster’s hold. “You don’t get to say her name! Not after everything you did to her!”

   “Jim, go hold off the guards,” Cullen instructed. “This isn’t an Inquisition matter. Go!”

   Leliana yanked Carver to his feet making sure to keep a death grip on the warrior. She could feel the anger vibrating off him. In the end, it proved to have little effect as Carver lunged towards the Commander.

   Sensing the move, Cullen caught Carver’s free arm, jerking him into the unexpecting Leliana. He became distracted the moment she stumbled back, grasping at her chest with pain etched into the lines of her face. “Damn it, Carver.” He tossed the younger man aside, meeting Josephine at the Spymaster’s side. “Your qualm is with me. You don’t need to take it out on anyone else.”

   Actions finally registering, Carver began to grow remorseful. “I didn’t-. I’m sorry.”

   “It’s okay. I’m okay,” Leliana corrected rubbing the sudden ache. “He didn’t… I don’t know what happened. I’m fine, truly.”

   There was something in her voice, hidden beneath her usual rips tone that Cullen nearly missed. Something had shaken her and not simply Carver’s attack, having been in the Blight and all and seen far worse things. Tucking it away for later, Cullen turned his attention to his brother in law. “I’m taking it by the way you charged your way in here, you haven’t heard from your sister in quite some time?”

   Anger came seeping back in, leaving Carver glowering. “What the fuck do you know? Or care?” He was already on his feet closing in on Cullen. “You abandoned her!”

   Cullen didn’t man an attempt to deflect Carver’s heavy blow. Firmly planting his feet, he squared himself against the former Templar. This was what he deserved at the very least for all the main over the years.

   “You caused her agony!” After another strike, Carver became enraged by the Commander’s lack of defense both physically and verbally. “She trusted you. Loved you at the risk of her life and you simply left her out in the wilderness.”

   “By Andraste, he didn’t know she was alive!” Josephine snapped effectively stopping Carver mid-swing. “He thought, was even told, she didn’t make it after her fight with Meredith.”

   Carver rocked back on his heels, studying Cullen’s rapidly swelling face. “She wrote to you. You wrote to her.”

   “Varric never forwarded them,” Leliana explained still on the ground fighting through the discomfort in her chest. “He replied to them on Cullen’s behalf, tricking your sister.”

   Carver sputtered obviously taken aback by the news. “Why in Thedas would he do that?” He fell back a step completely deflated. “He knew how much she needed him. How much she was hurting. Maker, Evelyn.”

   Cullen’s heart clenched thinking of the daughter he never met. Tears burned behind his swollen lids. “I know you never liked me much or through I was good enough for your sister, but I loved her with all my heart and soul. I would have NEVER abandoned her if I knew she was alive. NEVER would have left her to raise our child alone.”

   “How’d you-.” Carver caught sight of the ring on the Cullen’s finger. It was clear by the wear in the silver that the Commander kept it close even when he believed Olivia to be dead. “She’s here, isn’t she?”

   “Yes.” Cullen mopped up more of the blood from his split face. “Well, not currently as she’s accompanied the Inquisitor to the Western Approach.”

   “Oh… Well, shit.” Carver forced a hand through his thick mane of hair. “I’m afraid I act before I think most of the time.”

   “Glad to see some things never change,” Cullen muttered.

   “I heard the Commander had been through the Hinterlands when I stopped at the Cross Roads and well…” Dashing forward, Carver gently pulled Leliana back onto her feet. “I apologize, my lady. I only meant to hurt Cullen.”

   “Did a good job of that,” Josephine noted on a frown.

   “Come, Leliana.” Cullen cupped her elbow. “Let’s get you to a healer.”

   The Spymaster fixed him with a look. “I think you’re in need of one more than me, Commander. Your eye is already swollen shut. Plus, he didn’t actually hurt me.”

   “Regardless, your face is still void of color.” Cullen’s observation surprised the rogue. “I don’t know what happened, but you’re still seeing Dorian.”

   “Please don’t argue with him,” Josephine added clearly concerned at her friend’s startled state. “I don’t like how shaken you’ve become.”

   Leliana squeezed the Ambassador’s hand. “I’ve most likely worked myself too much,” She tried to assure but neither of her fellow advisors backed down. “Fine. As long as you come with, Cullen. Hopefully, there isn’t any permanent damage.”

   The corner of his scarred mouth pulled upward. “Bright side, if there is, you and Josephine will stop using my looks as a negation tool.”

   Once alone with the Ambassador, Carver’s gaze dropped to his mud-covered boots, completely ashamed that once again his hot head got the better of him. “I deeply apologize, my lady. My mother would box my ears, among other things, for y actions.” Carver forced a hand through his hair again. “My sister is the only family I have left.”

   Josephine offered him a gentle smile. “While I don’t condone your actions, I do understand them.”

   He lifted his gaze. “Ah, thank you, my lady.”

   “Please, call me Josephine. Your hand is pretty raw, Let’s start with some ice and I’ll see about a healer.”

   “I, um, yes.” Carver felt his cheeks start to fill with heat. “Thank you, my… I’ mean, Josephine.”

  

 

Anam – soul mate/ soul love/ soul friend

_mo bheannachd- my blessing_

Neartaíonn sé, Iarrthóir- it hurts, Seeker

_M’eudail- my darling_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I used the song from Frozen 2. I thought it fit quite well and kept coming back to the song when writing this scene. Hopefully, you guys enjoyed this chapter.


	24. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owein awakes to face his injuries and to discuss the new link between him and Cassandra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes are mine still looking for a beta

   Owein awoke to a cool cloth bathing his brow and a fire radiating from beneath his shoulder blade. Groaning, he tried to move, but a familiar hand to his bare chest stopped him. “Cassandra.” His voice cracked, throat completely dry. “Water.”

   “Don’t move,” Cassandra softly commanded.

   There was a slight tremor in her tone, something she rarely let anyone hear. The Seeker was afraid. “Cass.” Weak, Owein reached for her only his oddly heavy limbs prevented him from even coming close.

   “Drink.” Supporting his head, she helped the injured mage sip from the water skin. “Keep it slow or you’ll make yourself sick.”

   Owein looked around the tent trying to find something to help gauge the passage of time. Numerous empty bowls and blood-stained bandages were cluttering the corner near the opening. Next to the pallet, he was laying in was healing potions and half-empty Lyrium vials, used no doubt by Hawke while healing him. He touched the bandage taped above his right breast. “Bad?”

   Cassandra’s hand drifted to his pale cheek thumb stroking the corner of his wind burnt lips. She couldn’t quite stop the tremor from her touch. “A Terror Demon’s tail caught you from behind and ran you through.” She stopped a moment, mind overrun by the memory of the blood pouring from his body and staining her armor. “The tip was coated in poison. You’re still purging it from your body. It’s been two days.”

   Wrapping his fingers around her wrist, Owein studied the dark circles under her tired eyes. “Worried you. I’m sorry, _Anam._ ”

   Here, in the seclusion of the tent, Cassandra lowered the shield around her heart and let everything she’d been holding in break free. She didn’t have to be anything more than a woman concerned about the man she loved. “It was touch and go.” Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes. “The wound and poison. Hawke wasn’t… Maker, Owein… I felt it. The exact moment it happened, I felt the pain. I don’t understand…”

   Owein laid his marked hand against Cassandra’s chest. The same spot where his bandage was. “An _anam cara_ is more than a term. The people in the clan would tell stories of how they felt their mate leagues away. Experienced their joy and pleasure. Everything really.”

   “That’s how I knew you were in trouble,” Cassandra softly realized finally solving the mystery of that long-ago day in Haven. “When those men cornered you near the Chantry.”

   Owein turned his head, pressing a kiss to the center of her palm. “You have a part of my soul, Cassandra, and I have part of yours. Even if separated by death, we will still be connected.”

   “Let’s not test that theory any time soon, please.” Cassandra found herself a bit shaken by the revelation of true deeps of having _anam cara._ She always thought it was something to be found in books and nothing more. This would be something they would have to explore when he was stronger. Cassandra was ready for the adventure because Owein would be with her every step of the way.

   “I’ll do my best.”

   “My heart would appreciate it.”

   “Coram.” Owein’s mind shifted back to the skirmish on the bridge. “What happened to Coram? Is he-.”

   “Alive,” Cassandra quickly assured struggling to keep him still. “He took a shard of Red Lyrium to his shoulder and barley managed to shift forms before he hit the bottom of the cavern.”

   “Red Lyrium!”

   She ran her fingers through his mattered hair. “We were quick to remove it.”

   That knowledge did nothing to calm him. “He could still have some trace of it in the wound. It could- He will turn-.”

   Grasping his chin, Cassandra forced his worried gaze to hers. “It’s been two days. It would have shown some signs by now. We got it all, Owein.”

   “He’s okay?”

   She nodded. “A few broken bones and a dislocated shoulder. All mended. Though Hawke embolized his shoulder to prevent permeant damage. He’s quite upset she forbade him to fly for at least a fortnight if not more.”

   Owein sagged back against the platter of furs. “Thank the Creators.”

   “Cassandra.” Hawke poked her head into the tent a smile appearing on seeing Owein awake. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Trevelyan.”

   Owein let out a small huff of breath. “Not sure I would go that far.”

   “Did you need something, Olivia?”

   “Yes. Rylen and a few of his men wish to speak to you,” Hawke informed hating this was going to pull the Seeker from Owen’s side. Hawke felt no shame in admitting Cassandra had a much greater sense of duty than herself. Something Hawke admired about the Warrior tremendously and, as bad as it sounded, liked the see the small snipped of the woman under the plate armor. Like Cassandra’s blatant and unmeasurable love for the Inquisitor. “They’ve cleared the path to the west and found even more Darkspawn.”

   “Don’t.” Cassandra forced Owein back down. “You dare move.”

   “Things-.”

   “I will handle them,” She quickly countered. “You’re still trying to purge the poison. The only thing you need to do is rest.”

   Far too tired to argue, Owein gave her a lopsided grin. “You’re quite sexy when you’re bossy, _Iarrthóir.”_

Rolling her eyes, Cassandra stood. “I haven’t slept in nearly three days. I know I look a sight.” She picked up her sword and shield. “Hawke, can you sit with him. Not that he’s awake you should get a full healing draft in him.”

   “Of course.” Hawke was already kneeling next to the pallet, reaching for the said vial. “Don’t want to see all my hard work undone.”

   “Listen to her, _Mac Tire.”_ Cassandra gave her final instruction before ducking under the flap of the ten already in full warrior mode.

   Hawke clucked her tongue. “Your Seeker is a terrifying woman, Trevelyan.”

   Owein chuckled, wincing at the sharp pain in his chest. “You have no idea.”

   “I need to know her secrets.” Hawke uncorked the healing potion. “She’s a master of her emotions. I’m in awe of how she can shift and tuck them away at the drop of a hat. I’m far too emotional for that. Everyone tells me that.”

   “So Varric wrote in his book.”

   “About the only completely true thing in that thing. Down the hatch.” She carefully poured the contents of the vial between his wind burnt lips. “Drink it all. I’ve only managed to get a few drops in here and there since returning to camp.”

   “Thank you, Olivia.” Owein let his head drop back once again. “For saving my life, obviously, but for being out there. Helping the Inquisition and for involving yourself in al this shit once again after everything you went through in Kirkwall. I don’t know how you did it and came out sane.”

   The corner of her mouth twitched. “Sane is a strong word.”

   “You know what I mean.”

   “I had good people surrounding me.” Setting aside the empty vial, Hawke carefully peeled back the Inquisitor’s bandage to inspect the healing wound. “I had the love of a man that understood and supported me, even with the obstacles between us. I would’ve never made if it wasn’t for them.”

   Owein scrubbed a hand over his tired face. “How did you deal with it? Not the constantly almost dying part, but the enormous pressure. Expectations.” He lifted his copper eyes to her glass green ones. “It’s crushing me. I feel like my control is slipping more and more. You saw what I did on the bridge!”

   Hawke could hear the panic rising in his uneven voice. “Owein.”

   “I turned them into paste! I killed them without remorse.” He fought to block out the horrible memory of completely obliterating the blood mages. “Even the mark is pulling my nightmares into the living world.”

   Taking his hand, Hawke gave it a firm squeeze, understanding perfectly the emotions, doubts, and struggles currently coursing through the Inquisitor. Not many stopped to think of the toll, both physically and mentally, such a responsibility did to a person after they were quite literally thrown into the chaos. Day after day, person after person, would ask the impossible without thinking of the dangers. Hawke wore her fair share of scars seeing out such request because as Champion of Kirkwall to refuse would have had dire consequences. To her and the people she loved.

   After sweeping her gaze over Owein’s exposed chest, Hawke was could see he was already experiencing that part of being ‘Chosen.’ “Share your burden, Owein. Taking on this all on yourself is impossible and a sure fine way to get yourself killed.”

   Thinking of Coram’s close call on the bridge had Owein fighting her seemingly sound advice. “It will put them in danger. They would die in my place. I can’t-won’t…”

   “These people, your family, are willing to walk to the end of Thedas for you.” She squeezed his hand once again. “And more if you ask them. And trust me, they’re waiting for you because they know and respect you well enough that you need to relinquish control because it does come with risks.”

   Owein let out a long sigh knowing she was absolutely right. That didn’t mean it was any easier to accept. “Thank you.”

   “Don’t thank me just yet, Trevelyan.” Dropping his hand, Hawke fixed the bandage in place. “I have to another purge and now you’re awake, you’ll feel exactly how unpleasant it is when done by another’s magic.”

    Outside the tent, Cassandra faltered in her conversation with Rylen, pressing the heel of her palm against her best becoming winded by the burning sensation spreading under her breast. Owein’s pain. Could she ever grow accustomed to this deeper connection?

   “Seeker?” Concerned, Rylen caught her by the arm to stop her from swaying. “Are you alright?”

   Cassandra nodded afraid her voice would betray the turmoil within. Rylen, who had been with Cullen from the beginning and going through withdrawals himself, would be the last one to judge her for slipping out of her warrior persona.

   “Still, sit.” He guided her to an empty spot near the fire. “When was the last time you ate?”

   “I’m fine.” The last thing Cassandra wanted was to be coddled.

   Never the less, Rylen was filling two bowls of stew cooking over the open flame. “Well, I’m hungry and hate eating alone.” He thrust one of the bowls into her hands knowing better than to give her a chance to argue. “Don’t believe me, ask the guys back at Griffin Keep. They detest the fact I have structured meal times.”    

   Because she was indeed hungry, Cassandra took a healthy bite as Rylen sat beside her. “Cullen has grumbled about it a time or two.”

   He shot her a grin. “Only way to get him to eat.”

   “You’re very adept at taking care of people, Knight Captain.” Cassandra did her best to ignore another pang in her chest from Hawke’s purge to rid Owein’s body of the demon’s poison.

    “And my father said I would never amount to anything. Glad I can prove him wrong after all these years.”

   Cassandra stopped eating, meeting his blue gaze. “You proved that to him a long time ago, Rylen. Before the Inquisition. Before your assignment in Kirkwall.” Her words caught her fellow Warrior by surprise. “I heard of your work back in Starkhaven, about your habit of questions things when others wouldn’t dare. Even wouldn’t you shouldn’t have, you carrying natured save many lives, any mages, regardless of what you were ordered to do.”

   “Ah, um.” Rylen wasn’t used to fumbling. “Thank you, Lass. Truly.”

   Stroud joined the, breaking up their rather personal conversation and bringing them back to the more relevant one about why Rylen ventured out from the keep in the first place. “Word is you found even more Darkspawn.”

   “Aye,” Rylen answered. “Whole lot of ‘em to be exact. Occupying a cavern and some old ruins.”

   “Ruins?” Stroud scratched his stubbly jaw. “Did you find any passages that could be their gate from the Deep Roads?”

   “Found about three of ‘em and sealed ‘em up good before you go asking. There were a few Venatori up that way as well and a handful of giants under their control. “Took out on of yer targets as well, Seeker. The passages are sealed, ruins cleared out, and all Venatori in the area purged. We ran into a rift which is the true reason for this in person report.”

   “That makes nearly six in this area alone.” Something that concerned Cassandra greatly. Closing them was taking a toll on Owein. They discovered how much when he closed two within being an hour of each other and he nearly passed out from exhaustion. Now, being injured, she shuddered to think of the effects sealing one would do to him.

   Sensing her personal conflict that Stroud seemed oblivious to, Rylen flashed her a reassuring smile. “We’ve got guards rotating where the ruin’s wall ends. So far, it’s remained dormant.”

   “Good.” Cassandra focused on eating for a good moment or two until her mind cleared. “What about this dragon? Did it give you any trouble?”

   “Dragon.” Bull seemingly appeared out of nowhere face beaming with hope at the single word. “Are we finally going to take down the beauty?”

   Cassandra rolled her eyes. “We are not going to bring it down as you say for your amusement nor that researcher’s curiosity. They are a majestic creature that needs to be respected and hunted if they pose a great threat.”

   Bull tilted his head in curiosity. “An odd way of thinking for a woman who comes from a famous dragon hunting line.”

   “How do you think we were so successful, Bull?” Cassandra finished her stew noting the pleased look on Rylen’s face. “Not by charging horns first and swinging. To know your enemy, one must study and respect it first.”

   “Bah! That takes the fun out of it!” Bull grumbled.

   “That’s what keeps you alive,” Cassandra countered. She turned her attention back to the Knight Captain. “What is its status?”

   “Gave my men a bit of a scare following up on that Chantry trail you asked about,” Rylen informed. “That researcher begged us to engage, mentions bait and traps, but it was a small scouting party. Not equipped to take on such a neat. It did almost get one of ‘em.”

   Bull gave the Seeker a pointed look. “Endangering Inquisition men. That reason enough?”

   Cassandra bit back a sigh. “Only if it’s coming increasingly hostile.” Now, she looked at Rylen. “Is it?”

   Rylen looked between the two. “It does seem to become disturbed by our growing presence here. I do enjoy a good thrill myself, but going toe to toe with a dragon isn’t something I would suggest without cause.” He watched the displeasure mount on Cassandra’s tired face. “The Keep is a good strategic hold for the Inquisition. I would hate to lose it to the blasted beast.”

   Now, the Qunari was literally shaking with anticipation.

   Cassandra sat her empty bowl aside and turned her full focus on Bull. “We need a plan first.”

   His cheer of glee could be heard throughout the entire Approach.

   Upon hearing said plan a little bit later, the only thing keeping Owein down was Hawke’s full weight on his chest. “You can’t be serious!” He seethed through the pain and weakness. “A dragon?”

   “It needs to be taken care of,” Cassandra simply explained. “And we are delayed going home until you and Coram can travel.”

   Owein sputtered for a moment. “you’re mad if you think I’m going to let you-.”

   “Let me?” Cassandra cut him off folding her arms across her chest. “I wasn’t aware I needed your permission.”

  Hawke slinked her way towards the opening of her tent. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”                                                                                                                                       

   Struggling, Owein pushed himself up into a sitting position. “That’s not… Fucking _déantóir_.” He scrubbed a hand over his weary face. “Of course not, Cassandra. I just… I need…”

   Cassandra relinquished the sudden burst of anger, kneeling down next to him and laying her hand over his heart. “To make sure I’m safe,” She finished. “Protected.”

   “yes. I know you can take care of yourself. I’ve seen it a thousand times over.”

   “Remember what I said back in Val Royeaux?” Cassandra felt him stiffen under her touch. “As hard as it’s becoming, we cannot allow our connection to cloud our judgment in any way. Meaning, doing something stupid, like keeping me from my duty even it if puts me in danger.”

   Sighing, Owein brushed his knuckles along her jaw. “I don’t like it,” He softly admitted. “But I understand.”

   She leaned into his warm touch. “Need I remind you that this won’t be my first dragon?”

   A laugh bubbled up his throat. “I’ve heard the stories.”

   “C’mon Seeker!” Bull whined from outside the tent. “Scouts says it’s landed again. We need to go.”

   “I’ll be back before you know it,” She said to Owein.

   “Promise?”

   “Promise.” Cassandra sealed the vow with a kiss. “Try to rest.”

   “Like that’s going to happen.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

   Owein was seated at the small campfire talking with Coram and another scout from Griffon Keep doing his best to keep himself distracted with idle conversation. He was grateful to see Coram up and about even if his face lacked its usual color and was even bemused by the elf’s displeasure of Hawke’s instructions to refrain from flight. Thinking of the mage and in turn the Seeker, Owein shifted his gaze to the west hoping for a sign of the party returning.

    “Will you stop,” Coram grumbled trying to balance a freshly made bowl of stew on his lap. He pulled at the sling. “You’d know if something happened to her.”

   “I know,” Owein shot back to worked up to eat himself. Now that they both fully acknowledged another string that connected their souls, he knew the spike in adrenaline belonged to Cassandra, but it hadn’t settled in the two hours she’d been gone. How long did it take to hunt a dragon? Were they trapped? Did they need to send out a search party? Who would he send out anyway? Both he and Coram were recovering and in no shape to pick up a weapon let alone use them. “Doesn’t stop me from worrying any less.”

   The scout, unsure of the true depth of the Inquisitor’s worry, eyed the pot of stew as he glanced down at the empty bowl at his feet. “The Knight Captain is resourceful and I know all about the Seeker’s legendary skill. No way anything is going to happen to them.

   Catching sight of Cassandra’s form climbing down one of the large dunes, Owein pushed his untouched bowl into the scout’s hands before surging to his feet. He ignored Coram’s bemused expression, tossing an incoherent insult in response. He was far too absorbed in searching his Seeker for injuries he missed the way the elf’s face fell. As Cassandra closed the gap between them and camp, he felt the pressure in his chest start to amplify almost to an unbearable level. She looked a bit dazed, carrying her weapons in one hand and her battle tarnished breastplate in the other. Her hair and tunic were damp from the excursion of her battle. No bloody among the dirt and grime, Owein happily noted unable to look away from her wide almost crazed gaze.

   He swallowed the thickness coating his throat. “Did the beast get it’s fill before you stuck him down, _mo bheannachd_?”

   “What?” Cassandra stopped, fumbling to correctly process the Inquisitor’s words. She looked around and remembered the rest of her party wasn’t with her. “Oh. The others wanted to clean off in the lake down the valley. I wanted… I wanted to get back to assure you we were safe. I could feel your… Anxiousness.”

   Owein resisted the urge to frown. It wasn’t like Cassandra to be so absent-minded in any capacity. She seemed highly distracted, lost even leaving him to fear a possible head injury. “Are you okay?”

   “I’m fine. I’m-Don’t!” Cassandra held up a gloved hand to keep him at bay. “I’m okay. I promise. I just… Just…”

   Regardless as much as it pained him, Owein fell back a step. Even with the distance between them, he could feel the energy rolled off her in powerful waves. His own skin hummed in response. He took a moment to look at the other two occupants of camp hoping to gain some insight into the warrior’s condition. The scout was confused more then Owein. Coram, on the other hand, looked at Cassandra with an understanding that Owein had to conclude with both of them being highly skilled hunters.

   “I’m going to clean up at the well,” Cassandra explained skirting sure to skirt wide around the trio of men. “I’ll be back hopefully before the others return.”

   Owein clasped his hands behind his back to keep himself from reaching out. He watched her, waiting for her to look up and becoming frustrated when she didn’t. What was going on? Forcing his fingers through his thick mane of hair, he began to pace. Otherwise, he would become compelled to follow. Being rejected a second time wasn’t something she could handle.

   “Owein.”

   His head jerked up in realization Coram had been calling her name. “What?”

   “Relax.”

   “How can I possibly do that?” Owein growled. “You saw her. Something is wrong. I didn’t feel any injury, but the connection hasn’t been fully explored. I know-”

   Coram caught the Inquisitor by the shoulder effectively cutting him off. Their other camp occupant seemed to find his bowl of stew a greater interest than their conversation. Still, he made sure to keep his voice low. “Go to her, _deartháir.”_

   Owein raised a brow. “You heard her. She didn’t want me anywhere near her.”

   “That’s the furthest thing from the truth.” Coram nearly laughed at the man’s confused expression. He had to remind himself while Owein’s magic could be destructive, the clan called on him to use it for healing, while others, like Coram, went charging into battle. Leaving a gap in his knowledge of how one could be affected by a good fight. “Trust me and go. If I’m wrong, you can hold if over my head for as long as you like. You know I heated hearing ‘I told you so’.”

   “Fine.”

   Coram ducked into Cassandra’s tent and came back with her pack and a light blanket. “If the others do come back, I’ll make sure to keep them at bay.” He thrust the items into Owein’s hands. “Go.”

   Going on faith his friend obviously knew something he didn’t, Owein waved between the other tents towards the crumbling wall that shielded the well. His stomach began to knot in response to  Cassandra’s churning emotions. He momentarily wondered if the intensity of this connection would even out with tie and understanding as he rounded the corner where his curiosity turned to worry.

   Arms braced against the stone well, Cassandra was stripped down to her leathers and breast band. Owein’s eyes traveled over the exposed muscles of her back finding her wound up tighter than a bowstring. While there were no serious injuries, there were a few bruises that weren’t there that morning, but it was hard to tell if they were acquired during their skirmish with the Wardens or her fight with the dragon.

   He dropped the items Coram handed him near the well. “Cassandra?” His voice caused her to tense even more. Stepping up behind her, he instantly became engulfed in the scorching heat surrounding her. Beads of water rolled down her olive skin from the bucket that Owein concluded she dumped on her head in an attempt to cool off with no regards it was going to become troublesome to remove her leathers given they were drenched.

   “I’m okay,” Her strained voice tried to reassure. “You don’t need to worry about me, _mac tire.”_

   “Hard not to when you won’t let me touch you let alone look at me.” Testing the waters, Owein skimmed his fingers over the large scar cutting across her left shoulder blade. The simple connection set something off causing her to whirl around and Owein was caught in her searing gaze. There was a need in them that left him completely breathless. He’d seen her post battle plenty of times. Seen her blood stirred up and setting her on edge. A side effect of the rush of battle, one Owein had only experienced himself a time or two since becoming part of the Inquisition.

    He’d never seen her this electrified before. It actually looked like her current state pained her greatly. That’s why she didn’t go with the others to the lake. She came back to camp not only to put his worry at ease but to help calm the storm inside her. “Cassandra.” She pressed her hands flat against his best to stop him one more. Owein cocked his head to the side. “Let me help you.”

   Eyes blown wide, Cassandra shook her head as if she didn’t trust her voice in her current state.

   “Please. I can’t stand to see you suffering, _Anam.”_ He watched her hungry gaze drop to his mouth. Felt the arms holding him at bay ben ever so slightly. Still, she stopped herself from fully giving in to her body’s need. “Cassandra, please.”

   “You’re hurt,” She finally managed.

   Fingers tangling in her damp hair, Owein hauled her onto the tips of her toes. “I don’t care.” That’s all it seemed to take to strip away her reservations. She rushed forward, hands in his thick mane, and mouth taking his. The force of her passion sent Owein stumbling back, thankfully until he collided with the crumbling wall and not on his ass. She hissed and Owein knew immediately it was a response to her feeling the pain radiating from his still tender would along her own back. “Don’t you dare stop.”

   Cassandra drew away. Swaying, she fought to regain a bit of the control she prided herself on having at all times. “No. No, you’re still healing.” Her fingers flexed at his shoulders now. “I can take care of myself.”

   Owein bent to nibble the beating pulse in her throat. Hand running over her exposed stomach, he felt her resolve breaking once again. “I would hope that my assistance will heighten the end result.” He felt rather than heard her response of agreeance vibrating against his questing lips. Slipping a hand into her loosened leathers, Owein growled at what he found. “Sweet _Cruthaitheoirí._ You’re wound so tight and dripping.”

   She bucked shamelessly into his skilled fingers too far consumed by the pounding need of relief, to quite the roar in her blood, to care about anything else. “Dragons put up a fight like no other.” Cassandra knew that she hadn’t been the only one affected by the battle. When Bull had waved her on towards camp, she could see the blood lust, the need etched in every fiber of his being. “Owein, please. I-I…”

   Cassandra’s emotions washed over Owein, allowing him to feel the painful, deep pulse of need coursing through her body. It left his head spinning. Growling, Owen bared his teeth and let his inner wolf free as he worked the skin of her throat, drawing the most exquisite sounds from the Seekers. More! More! He could hear her desperate, unspoken plea clear as day and was all too happy to oblige. Tearing off her breast band, Owein forced lanky frame down further, taking her pert nipple between his lips.

   Being so worked up from the fight, that’s all it took to send Cassandra flying. Hands clutching his back, seeking an anchor, she let herself be swept away by the storm inside her. The vice gripping her eased slightly as she came down. Underneath it, she felt a hot prickle of unfathomed delight and satisfaction that didn’t belong to her.

    _Owein._  Panting, she opened her heavy lids to become trapped in his burning gaze. Feeling him so vividly, knowing this newly acknowledged connection stretched further than on the battlefield, stole what little breath she had. Now that the linking was open it seemed to be no turning it off. Not that she was complaining.

   Cassandra was still wound up. Owein saw the fire raging in her dark orbs, setting hi into motion once again.

   “Owein,” Cassandra gasped as he spun her and pressed her against the rough surface of the wall. He was feverishly working on pushing down her leather. “Wh-wha-?”

   “Not done. Not done.” Owein fused his mouth over hers swallowing her noises of delight while he continued to wrestle with the damp fabric. Fumbling for the knife on his belt, he basked in her raw hunger. Loved the sound caught in her throat. The sharp sting of her teeth nipping at his lips. Her nails scorching across his back, leaving welt in their wake beneath his tunic.

   Hearing her leathers being split, Cassandra jolted back ready to scold him for taking such measures. All of it died when he dropped to his knees, grasped her hips, and buried his face into her core. She leaned back against the wall for balance, trying to spread open further only to be trapped within the confines of her wet pants. “Shit. Damn it.” Obscenities continued to fall from her swollen lips as she twisted in a vain attempt to help remove the barrier while Owein used his mouth to stroke the fire inside her back to life. “Cut them off. Now, Owein!”

   Careful not to break from her completely, Owein picked up the knife he dropped and cut through the right leg, freeing the limb before dropping the weapon again and slide his fingers along her slit before dipping them into her drenching sheath. She was incredibly over-sensitive, drawing out cries that could easily be heard by the other by curling his digits inside her. He wondered if he should say something then her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him to where she needed him the most and cared about nothing else than pleasing her.

   Her release left them both light-headed.

   Owein surged to his feet, tearing at the strings of his leathers. “Creators, woman,” He growled no longer able to ignore the ache between his legs. Her gaze was still needy, though the grip it initially had on her had loosened tremendously. Shaking the sweat-soaked hair from his eyes, Owein nipped hard at her bottom lip. “One more time, _grá amháin._ Together.”

   Cassandra nodded far too weak for anything else. While her body might be lax, her blood thirsted for the more he was offering, knowing together they would finally quench her need. She let him turn and she braced her hands against the rough stone wall she was sure that did a nice number on her already bruised back. He stepped up behind her, using his knee to part her legs as his hand pressed against her lower back and forcing her to arch towards him. He slid into her in one fluid stroke. The hot piercing sensation kicked the ambers left in the wake of her last release. “Sweet Maker.”

   “Not quite.” Owein hissed between clenched teeth. Carefully, he gripped her neck to create an anchor to maintain the frantic pace. “But making you fall apart makes me feel like a god.”

   A laugh escaped between her ragged breaths. The vibration caused an interesting reaction from the Inquisitor who howled as his gripped tightened around her now that he was slamming into her viscously. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

   “Ridiculous?” Owein echoed feeling the heat start to coil at the base of his spine signaling his releases. “Here I am trying to be charming.”

   Cassandra laughed again earning another growl. “You might want to get lessons from someone other than- Owein!” She yelped as he squeezed her throbbing bundle of nerves with the hand she hadn’t seen move. “Andraste’s mercy.”

    “Still ridiculous?”

   Cassandra bucked forward into his clever fingers. “Always.”

   Owein pinned her to the wall with his upper body. “You say the sweetest things to me, _Iarrthóir_.” He sank his teeth into her shoulder drowning in her throaty whimpers of pleasure as yet another release took her over. Giving no care to where they were or who could hear them, he called out her name as he quickly followed.

   Body heavy and utterly relaxed, Cassandra set her full weight against the wall silently hoping that it was more structurally sound then it appeared. “I’m ever grateful for your assistance, Inquisitor.”

   Owein chuckled placing a soothing kiss over the fresh mark he left. “I am happy to oblige if assistance is ever needed again, my lady.” Taking care to keep her support, he stepped back and reached out with his boot to tug the discarded blanket closer. “Feel better?”

   “Maker, yes.” Cassandra let him guide her down to the blanket. Now that the rush of battle was gone, she found her skin chilled but couldn’t bring herself to care too much about it. “I’m sure that Coram and that scout got an ear full.”

   “Most likely,” He teased.

   “Sit.”

   “Let me get a bucket of water so we can clean you up,” Owein replied after rearranging his leathers.

   “It can wait. You’re hurting,” She pointed out when he tried to argue again. “I can feel it.”

   Smiling in hopes to ease the worry he heard in her voice, he knelt down to kiss her swollen mouth. “It was worth it.” He sat with his back against the wall and gathered her in his arms. “We’re going to have to get creative getting you back seeing how I destroyed your leathers.”

   “Worth it.” Her answer garnered her a laugh from the Inquisitor. She felt the tips of his fingers run along her shoulder and down her arm. A loving and gentle touch that she cherished as much as the frenzied ones. “Why is this connection happening now? Why not the moment we met?”

   Owein focused his magic on healing every bruise and laceration he came across. “Our souls may be connected, but that doesn’t mean our hearts or minds can easily accept everything at once that comes with finding your mate. Some people are closed off and refuse to allow fate dictate their life, closing themselves off not only to the person they’re connected to but everything that goes with it.” He cupped her cheek in his hand and turned her gaze towards his. “To reach this point it means you’ve opened your heart and trust your mate above all else.”

    Smiling, she brushed her torn knuckles along his scruff covered jaw. “Owein-.”

   “Not to interrupt,” Coram’s voice came from behind the wall that protected them. “Though from the lack of sounds, it seems things are over.”

   “What is it, Coram?” Owein tried to keep the bite from her voice since he was the one who encouraged him to follow Cassandra.

   “I figured you’d like to know that the others are returning,” Coram answered. “I figured you two might want to make a run for your tent before any of them actually reach camp. I can hold them off if you like.”

   “Do that.” Owein stood to throw Cassandra’s back over his shoulder and helped wrap the blanket securely around the Seeker.

   “What?” Cassandra asked in response to the rather youthful smile that crossed his face. Her own started to burn in realization he was admiring his handy work in her current state. “I’m going to kill you, Trevelyan.”

   “But not today.”

   “No,” She sighed. “Not today.”

 

 _Anam_ – soul mate/ soul love/ soul friend

Iarrthóir- Seeker

_mo bheannachd- my blessing_

_deartháir- brother_

Cruthaitheoirí- creators

grá amháin- one love

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, I use the word connection WAAAAYYYY too many times... I'm going to go somewhere over there now...


	25. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang returns from the Approach to discover an interesting development and hopeful for time to decompress. But the Inquisitor's work is never finished it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes are mine. I know there has been a lot of them and trying to do better about self editing. Hopefully, you guys re still enjoying this story!

   “I desperately want a bath!” Owein exclaimed as he led the group to the main gates of Skyhold.

   Behind him, Hawke snickered and beat Sera to the punch by a single breath. “You can sure use it too. We are suffering for your inability to properly bathe.”

   He shot her a look over his shoulder which caused Cassandra to break into a fit of laughter. “You’re one to speak, Champion. I would inquire about getting new robes as soon as possible. Yours are looking a bit ragged.”

   She glanced down at the muck and blood-covered fabric. “Thanks to you.” Hawke grimaced at her choice of words and quickly turned to the Seeker. “Sorry.”

   “It’s okay.” Cassandra did her best to keep her tone light even if the words and memory caused quite a large amount of distress.

   “Now look at what you made me do, Trevelyan! Your woman-.” Hawke stopped dead right inside the main gates.

   Concerned by the abrupt haul, Owein’s head snapped to the side, finding the Champion frozen in place with a pained expression plastered on her face. The humor that had been surrounding their party evaporated instantly. “Olivia?”

   She didn’t answer. Instead, Hawke surged forward towards the approaching Cullen. “What in the Blight happened to you?”

   Cullen caught her by the wrist before she could make full contact with his still battered face. “Sore,” He sheepishly explained in response to her arched brow.

   “What happened?” Hawke demanded again. “Andy why hasn’t anyone healed you?”

   “Oh, this is much better than before.” Cullen realized his words did nothing to ease his wife’s worry. Carefully, he laid her palms against his discolored cheeks. “We had an unexpected visitor. One that wasn’t all to pleases to see me.”

   “Who was…” Healing spell frozen at her fingertips, her eyes narrowed. “Where is he?”

   From the crowd massed in front of the main hall stairs came a meek cough and the people parted, having no desire to be caught in the Champion’s furry.

   Sheepishly, Carver gave his sister a small wave. “Hello.”

    “For the love of the Maker!” She stomped her foot, a moment later watched Carver jump on a yelp in response to the shock she gave him. Hawke pinned him with a look to keep him from attempting to say anything and make things worse for himself. “You’re lucky that’s all you’re getting. Be smart and keep your mouth shut for once.”

   “It’s nothing, really,” Cullen tried to argue on his brother in law’s behalf but promptly followed Hawke’s advice and swallowed the rest of his words. Taking her trembling hands, he kissed her slightly torn knuckles. “Welcome home, my love.”

   Behind her, Owein let out a huff of breath. “No kiss for me, Champion?”

   “Thought that was the Seeker’s job,” Bull teased catching up to them as they all pushed towards the stairs. “I don’t blame you for the interest. The Commander is a handsome man.”

   Sera snickered. “Seems the Seeker’s sex life got a tad more interesting.”

   “You’re just jealous,” Coram shot back from behind. “That the Seeker’s lady parts are already spoken for.”

   While Cassandra turned scarlet, Owein nearly doubled over in laughter.

   The elf archer grinned while giving the Seeker a once over. “You’re not wrong, bird boy.”

   “Birdman!” Coram corrected completed evaporated by the silly nickname.

   Owein went to retort but stopped himself. Once again, the light hearted atmosphere passing amongst them vanished. Owein found the cause was a highly anxious Leliana quickly descending the stairs scanning the faces of the freshly arrived group. Someone at the rear of the group made a noise that Owein didn’t conclude was Coram until the Spymaster threw herself at the male rogue. There were a few wolf whistles, some cheering, and a lot of confusion going around. Owein fell back a step, watching in great interest. Of all people in Skyhold Leliana wasn’t even close to being on the suspect list in terms of stealing his friend’s heart. He had to admit that he never truly regarded Leliana as the beautiful woman she was. Mostly because he knew how deadly the redhead was and was scared shitless of her.

   Cassandra moved to his side. “Your mouth is hanging open.”

   Owein hastily closed it. Together, they watched Leliana draw away, expression soft and laced with concern, place one hand to Coram’s dirty cheek and the other to her own shoulder mirroring where he’d been injured. No words were spoken. Just smiles and gentle gazes before they fell back into each other’s arms.

   “You really had a no idea?” Cassandra was trying to gauge her lover’s reaction. The crowd began to slowly disrupt with people returning to their routine duties while the crew members of the Inquisition lingered.

   “Ah, well.” Obviously blinded sided by the new development himself, Cullen felt some privacy for all was needed more than a status report. “I think everyone would like a chance to freshen up and rest before we have our meeting.”

   “I’d like to see how ye fair after a month of traveling, Golden boy!” Sera tossed over her should along with a rude gesture before she started towards the tavern.

   Bull wasn’t far behind. “Won’t get an argument from me.”

   “That order goes for you, Commander. You-.” Hawke shot her brother another heated look. “I’ve missed you terribly and am incredibly happy to see you, but it’s best you disappear for a bit or your face will end up like my husband’s.”

   Smiling, mirroring his sibling’s relief and happiness, Carver bowed his head. “As the Champion commands.”

   “Ass,” Hawke snorted tugging on her husband’s arm. “Don’t even think about arguing, Golden Boy.”

   Cullen groaned. “I liked curly better.”

   Well aware he was still under the Inquisitor’s watchful gaze, Coram drew back from Leliana. He couldn’t find it in him to care. After months upon months of wondering was all put to rest. He knew it the moment he saw her face. Their hearts were one and they nearly missed their chance to be together due to his own apprehension. Neither one of them wanted to hide behind tragic pasts and fears of the future.

   “Hawke patched me up good,” Coram assured understanding it was a vain attempt as it did nothing to actually put the Spymaster at ease. He could see his pain swirling in her sky blue eyes. “I’ sure I should go see a healer for a check up before I find a bath.”

   “I could fetch Solas or Dorian,” Leliana suggested. Coram didn’t have such a high opinion of Vivienne.

   Coram gripped her by the hand. “I rather you stay by my side.”

   A smile blossomed across Leliana’s face. “Gladly.”

   “Just kiss him already!” Cassandra urged atop the main hall stairs. “I’m going to die from anticipation!”

   “Ignore her,” Owein called back dragging Cassandra along inside. He was pleased to hear the new couple laugh. “We’ll see you two around evening meal.”

   Cassandra peeked around the Inquisitor’s lanky frame. “I want details! All of them!” Laughing and happy for her friend, she hooked her arm through Owein’s noting a small crease in her lover’s brow. “You’re unhappy about this? Right before we left for the Approach you were pushing Coram-.”

   “No, I’m happy. I truly am.” He scratched his lightly bearded chin making sure to be careful with what words he chose. “Leliana has always seemed… Cold in regard to matters of the heart.”

   “She’s lethal, there is no mistaking that.” Cassandra knew better than most how easily the rogue’s dagger struck its mark both directly and indirectly. Cassandra opened the hall door leading up to their bed chamber’s stairs. “And you can blame her icy exterior, as you put it, on the Hero of Ferelden.”

   “Really?”

   Leliana and Cati became close rather quickly after meeting Lothering.” Cassandra started ascending the stairs. “An intense relationship by the sound of it and then Catie showed her true colors leaving Leliana heartbroken and nearly fighting for her life.”

   Owein stopped on the last landing. This didn’t sound like the type of woman Cullen could possibly ever have a crush on in his younger years. “That’s one is going to need some further explanation.”

   “When Cati retrieved Andraste’s Sacred Ashes for the Arl of Redcliff, she wanted to poison them so they will kill Eamon and set forth some crazy prophecy. Leliana disagreed about defiling the ashes and killing a relatively good man thus evoking a side of her lover she didn’t think existed.” Now in their bed chambers, Cassandra dropped the one pack she carried gratefully they left the rest on the horses to be retrieved later. Her bones were weary to the point she wanted to fall face first in bed, dirt and all, to sleep for the next week or two. “She was willing to destroy the ashes to fulfill some convoluted notion Andraste would be reborn as a high dragon which in Cati’s mind was a greater asset then the support of Redcliff.”

   “Yes, Leliana still stayed.”

   “Begrudgingly.” A nice warming sensation spread out through her tired body as Owein began to work the many buckles of her armor. She knew the moment he tapped into her emotions when his lips twitched upwards. While, even over a week later, Cassandra was still trying to comprehend the true scope of this connection, she found herself enjoying it immensely with each passing day. Good or bad, she liked feeling entuned with the Inquisitor. “She felt the mission was far more important than a broken heart. Didn’t make it any easier on her watching Cati seduce Alistair only to crush his gentle heart in the end before. Still, he sacrificed himself in her stead.”

   Owein set aside the breastplate, puldrons, and gloves before pulling at the strings of her greaves. “Yet, you still wanted her for the Inquisition.”

   “We were desperate and out of options with Hawke’s ‘death’. The Champion would have been our first choice,” Cassandra explained reached out to work on riding Owein of his dirty battle robes. “But in the end, we didn’t need them because we found you.”

   He gave her a wolfish grin. “I was thrown in your lap, literally, and I can’t say you all were particularly trustworthy of me.”

   Deviating from her task, she brushed the tips of her fingers along his wind burnt lips. “Doesn’t mean you weren’t exactly what we needed when he needed it the most.”

   Still unsure how to take such praise, Owein playfully nipped at her fingers. “Finish getting undressed. I’ll pull out the bath so we can have a nice private soak before our debrief.”

   “Let me. You’re still healing.”

   “I’m fine, _M’eudail._ ”

   “Oh really?” Cassandra expertly pressed a finger to his shoulder blade and they both yelped at the sharp pang of pain. She folded her arms across her chest. “Going to be harder to lie to me about such things now, _mac tire._ ”

   Owein made a noise in the back of his throat. “That works both ways.” He stepped aside to allow her to pull out the wooden bath from the closet. “At least, judging by the way she knew exactly where Coram was injured, Leliana isn’t closing herself off from her mate.”

   “Speaking of which,” Cassandra spoke over the loud noise of moving the tub. “I can feel you and Leliana can feel Coram but Hawke didn’t seem to sense Cullen’s injuries until a moment before she saw him.”

   “Could be the same reason he never sensed her all these years while she was on the run.” He ignored her glare of protest and helped her as her fatigue was showing in her sluggish movements. “The moment he was told she died, pain and grief buried his heart. He severed the connection most likely to numb himself to all the noise.”

   Her face grew soft in thought.

   Knowing where her mind strayed, Owein cupped her scarred cheek. “I don’t plan on letting anything take me away from you, _Anam._ I’ll fight the Maker himself if I have to.”

   “You better.”

   Across the Keep, Hawke sat Cullen on the edge of the bed to give her a better height advantage to inspect his battered face. Judging by the lighter colors of the bruising, lack of significant swelling, and state of his lacerations he sought out some type of healing. “Did he get the jump on you?”

   “Came barely through the door like a dufflo,” Cullen informed on a small chuckle. “Thought he caught Leliana in his wrath but now I realize it was the moment Coram was injured.”

   A frown formed on Hawke’s face. “I should’ve felt this.” Something she was still trying to comprehend. Back in Kirkwall, from nearly the moment their eyes connect across the battle, they could always feel each other. That feeling enhancing when they finally gave in to their heart’s demands. Now, she knew that during her time on the run he closed himself off to her to save himself the pain he felt due to losing her. Cullen never reopened that connection after they reunited as Hawke knew and understood he still struggled with the grief of the life they lost and all the pain of three years. “I felt a twinge last night it wasn’t until-.”

   “I saw you in the courtyard.” Taking her hands, Cullen drew her down until she straddled his lap. He carefully moved her frayed braid off her shoulder. “You’ve returned to my life, to my bed, and I’ve still kept you at arm’s length.”

   “We both have,” Hawke tried to assure. “After the deceit and loss, I never expected you to welcome me back in any fashion, especially your heart.”

   “There isn’t a world in existence where I could ever be without you as long as there is breath in both our bodies.”

   She feathered her fingers through his curls. “You’re my heart and soul, Cullen. You always have been and always will be.”

   “I still shut you out and it not only caused pain but prevented us from moving forward. I was scared,” He softly admitted.

   “I know.”

   “That this was all a dream.” Cullen leaned into her touch as she swept her fingers along his stubbly jaw. “That you’d disappear. Of course, you’d be taken from me once again but for good this time.”

   “I can feel you now.” She pushed a healing spelling into the tips of her fingers, slowly healing his battered face. Her own cheeks tingled in response to the magic. “What changed?”

   Cupping her chin, he leveled her gaze to his. “I saw your misery of hiding. I saw the agony on your face as you held our lifeless daughter.” Tears caught in his throat and filled his eyes. “And the thing I feared since you’ve come back paled in comparison.”

   Hawke worked past the emotions welling in her chest. “You let Cole help you?”

   “Reluctantly.”

   She let out a small huff. “Of course.”

   “It came after a good tongue thrashing from Dorian over our usual game of chess.”

   “And what did the Master Tevinter have to say.” Olivia was still bemused by the pair’s friendship.

   “He was Dorian.”

   The obvious affection in her husband’s voice made her smile. “I would like to know specifics.”

   “He went on about my stubbornness to allow anyone to heal me, saying it was a way to physically punish myself over the guilt I felt for the last three years.”

   She arched a brow. “He wasn’t wrong.”

   “No, No,” Cullen softly agreed. “No, he wasn’t. Doesn’t mean I liked it and in face removed myself from his presence only to find Cole lingering the way he does around my office. He wanted to give me a gift. A physical kind though he rambled on about his plan to ‘help’ me.”

   “The gift?”

   “A handmade frame for the picture he drew of you and Evelyn. He knew I was worried about damaging them with keeping it folded in my jacket. How I don’t know.” Carefully, Hawke thumbed her tears as he let his fall truly for the first time in front of her. “I heard our daughter, Liv. I heard her laugh.”

   “Oh, Cullen.” Hawke held him tight. “It was such a beautiful sound. It was my north star on my darkest days, pulling me back and filling me with such purpose.”

   “Hearing it, Maker, Olivia.” He buried his face in her throat, body shaking. Remembering the wonderful sound filled him with such a warmth and a sense of contentment he never was able to feel since the fateful day he ‘lost her’ in Kirkwall. “Knowing part of me was in her, I can’t describe it as anything other than euphoric.”

   Her fingers dug into the tunic at his shoulders. “I told her about you every day.”

   “I’m grateful for that.” Hand cupping the back of her neck, he tipped his head backward. “I love you, Olivia Hawke. With all my heart. No more hiding behind grief and making excuses. I will not waste another moment. We will never forget our little girl. Our Evelyn as long as we live. Maker willing, we will have another child.”

   “Or two,” Hawke managed between small sobs. “Twins do run in my family, remember.”

   “One, two, a dozen, it doesn’t matter. We’ll be together this time.”

   “Until the end of time, my love.” He pressed her lips to his. “Safe and solid, protecting and proud.”

   Hawke looked at him puzzled.

   “Cole said this to me, plucked to words right out of my head.”

    “Was there more?”

   “I feel like quiet, strong when you hold me.” Cullen felt her arms slid around his shoulder and held him tight. “I’ve felt like that from the moment you cradled me in your arms to heal me on the Wounded Coast.”

   She buried her face in his throat. “I’ve missed you, Cullen.”

   “And I, you.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

    Refreshed and recharged thanks to a shared bath with the Seeker, Owein worked on the buckles of his fresh robes as he worked his way down the stairs to the main hall. Cassandra was lingering upstairs to keep herself from seeking out Leliana and demanding for those details she asked for. A smile crossed his face thinking of the hopeless romantic the warrior was and how endearing he found it. He wondered if Varric had time to work on the special project Owein asked about.

   Two heated voices right inside the main hall from his tower knocked down his mood a couple of notches. Wishful thinking that duty could wait for a minute or two to let him catch his breath. Cocking his head, Owein watched Josephine and Mother Giselle go at it in hushed whispers that carried quite well along the massive room. If they were intending to keep others from their affairs the were failing. “Are you two arguing.” A rarity to say the least. Both women were known for their seemingly constant calm demeanor. They ceased their heated conversation instantly. “That’s highly unlike both of you.”

    Josephine, always in the role of being diplomatic, straightened her spine as she leveled her gaze towards the Inquisitor. “I was simply informing Mother Giselle that it’s best that all foreign correspondences go through the proper chances to be gone over with a fine-tooth comb in case of any attempts to spy or deem the Inquisition,” She calmly explained. 

    Mother Giselle was quick to defend herself showing Owein her short-tempered side. “The letter was sent in confidence from an old contact of mine made through the Chantry.”

    The Ambassador set her jaw, took a small breath, and spoke, “Need I remind you, Mother, the Inquisition doesn’t belong to the Chantry and therefore certain privy doesn’t apply here.”

    Feeling the familiar poundings of a headache, Owein pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to cut it off. Settling a trivial argument wasn’t on his personal agenda today, but it seemed fate had other plans. “Who is the letter from.”

    “A contact from Tevinter,” The mother softly replied watching the mage go rigid as steel.

    Josephine gave Mother Giselle a pointed look that screamed ‘I told you so’ without her having to actually say the words.

    “Currently, there is only one Tevinter in my life that I trust and willingly want in my life.” Owein did nothing to keep the bite from his voice. The name of the country brought all of the memories of that horrid future Alexius sent them to rushing back, gripping the edge of the throne when his knees knocked together under their weight.

    Mother Giselle fiddled with the edge of the parchment she held. “The letter is about the same Tevinter.”

    “Dorian?” Owein watched her grow uncomfortable. “Who is it from? By the broken seal I’m concluding that you read it.”

    “His father.”

     “He doesn’t talk about his family much. They don’t seem to be on good terms.”

  Mother Giselle confirmed the Inquisitor’s suspicion with a little nod. “That would appear to be correct. The letter I received describes the rift between them. His father pleads for my aid and he’s asked to arrange a meeting.” She looked around the hall doing her best to avoid the Ambassador knowing her part of the argument they were having was about to tip in her favor with the Inquisitor’s reaction. “Quietly, and without telling him. His father thinks this is the only way he’ll come. Since it seems the two of you have grown close, I hoped…”

   “Going to stop you right there,” Owein growled, cooper eyes glowing with his heated words. Leg steadier now, he pushed away from the throne and stalked closer, his inner wolf seeping out. “If you think I’m about to lie to him on the behalf of the father that seems by all accounts a horrible person then you’ve lost your mind.”

   “Inquisitor-.”

    “What is the nature of this meet? Why haven’t they come to talk to him? Too mighty to come to the back-water South to see their precious son?”

    “I believe they are a bit afraid of you,” The Mother softly confessed. “As for the meeting, I think it’s just to talk. His father wants to understand why his son left Tevinter and why he’s with the Inquisition. He is staying in Redcliff until either his son shows or a missive is sent.”

  “And if Dorian doesn’t agree?”

  “Maybe misleading him is the only way to get him to the meeting.”

    Owein couldn’t quite hold back his scoff. “That sounds like something the Chantry would be against.”

   “They simply want to see their sone,” Mother Giselle argued.

    Josephine clucked her tinge in disapproval. “Now you understand my hesitance to bring such a matter before the Inquisitor. We know nothing of this man’s intentions to a valued member of the Inquisition. We don’t even know if it was truly sent by him. It could be a trap.” She knew, along with Owein, Mother Giselle didn’t think very highly of their resident Tevinter mage. Josephine herself had her own reservation when Dorian showed up in Haven, but he had long ago proved himself. “There is something more to this whole thing than a simple meeting.”

   Mother Giselle thrust the letter bearing the broken Tevinter wax seal. “Read it and do as you wish. I will not spend precious time arguing the merit of this deed.”

    Owein watched the mother retreat down the hall towards the gardens. He let out a low breath. “Well, that was fun.”

    “You’re lucky I caught her.” Tired herself, Josephine rested her hip against the large arm of the Throne. “She seemed to be on a warpath and was trying to persuade the guards to let her upstairs.”

    “Guards?” Momentarily distracted, he twisted his head and sure enough, there were two armored Inquisition members posted outside the door leading to his tower. How had he missed that new development? “Why do I have guards outside my door?”

    “Well, after our unexpected visitor and how easily he breached the War Room it got me thinking of safety in general,” She calmly explained even as she saw the tension rising on his face as he turned to look back at her. “Yours in particular.”

    “Mine.”

   “You are the Inquisitor, Owein.”

   “That doesn’t mean my life means more than anyone else in this Keep.”

   The growl made a comeback, this time low and deep in the base of his throat. He found himself flexing his left hand trapping the glow of the mark from the world. “Just because I have this Blighted thing on my hand doesn’t mean my life has more value than the others.”

   Knowing this wasn’t an argument she had any hopes of winning, Josephine switched gears before the situation escalated. Owein’s anger, though rare to see, was legendary and she didn’t feel like experiencing it in person. “I’ve had another correspondence that will be of great interest to you. A response.”

    Owein guided her down the hall towards her office by the arm. The last thing he needed was for Cassandra to overhear a single word of the up conversation. “And.”

   “He’s not only accepted your duel but has made his way to Ferelden. I got the letter two weeks before your return from the Approach.” Josephine watched the Inquisitor glance wildly over his shoulder to ensure they were alone. He gave her a nod to continue, “I convinced him to hold steady and keep him from storming the gates of Skyhold.”

    “Maker bless you.” Owein dropped himself in the chair in front of the Ambassador’s desk.

   “He is getting restless as he rather this matter over and done with in order to claim his prize.”

    His brows shot up. “Does he now?”

   “He’s quite confident that this is a merely trivial thing and expects to have Cassandra’s hand in marriage before going back to Nevarra.”

   The growl was back this time with his magic sparking at his fingertips. “He vastly underestimates me and what I will do for the woman I love.”

   As she sat, Josephine’s eyes softened. “Have you told her?”

   “I’ve tried, but the moment is always interrupted and I haven’t found the right one to bring it back up again. I mean she knows-.”

   “I mean about the duel,” Josephine elaborated watching the mage go scarlet. “But it’s adorable to see you fumbling like a schoolboy, Inquisitor.”

    “I wish you would start calling me by my name, Josephine.”

   Now it was her turn to flush. “I’m working on it. Habits are hard to break.”

   “How long do I have before he comes here looking for the duel?”

   “A couple of days. My last letter caught him in Redcliff and that’s where he has taken post with the threat that if you do not come to him within a week, he is coming here. That was five days ago.”

    He scrubbed a hand over his face. “No rest for the wicked, eh?”

   “Are you sure about this, Owein.” The use of his first name had him looking up. Josephine held his gaze. “I know you love her and she, you, but this is dangerous. You can be hurt or worse, die.”

   Heart full and in his throat, he leaned forward, his voice flooded with deep emotions. “Losing Cassandra is a fate worse than death, Josie. I know that I can lose her to battle, but to stand by and watch her be stripped of her freedom and happiness is something I cannot do.”

   “You are a good man Owein Trevelyan. I’m sure that Cassandra will remember that after her anger dissipates after discovering the duel.” She attempted to bring humor back into the conversation and it worked with his soft laugh. “I will write to the prince to let him know you’re coming. You better start working on a cover story good enough it warrants leaving Cassandra behind.”

   Owein tapped the letter in his hand. “Seems like I have one right here. Even if Dorian doesn’t want to meet up with his father, I want to look that man in the face and tell him to bugger off.”

   Corners of her mouth lifted. “I’m sure you’ll use more colorful words than that.”

   He laughed again and pushed to his feet. “Have no doubt.”

   She made a show of sighing heavily. “I see my diplomatic lessons aren’t taking. Hopefully, you took better to the sword and dancing lessons.”

   “No fear, Ambassador. Cassandra and I danced all around the approach. As for the sword lessons.” He shot her a quick grin. “Guess we’ll find out in two days.”

   As Owein figured the letter did not sit well with Dorian. He’d never seen the Tevinter mage so unhinged before. Not even with the whole mess with Alexius. There was pure hatred in Dorian’s eyes as he stalked back and forth in his usual spot in the library tower. It compelled Owein to inquire just what the man’s father had done but figured it would be a question before left for later since Dorian did want to go to the meeting.

    “If you’re sure then we will set off in two days,” Owein stated much to his fellow mage’s surprise. After looking around once again, he shifted closer to Dorian, speaking in a low voice. “There is something else I must see to while in Redcliff that is rather personal.”

   “Oh.” Dorian’s whole demeanor changed to one of delight and interest. “Well, you can’t just say that and not give me any details, my friend. If you don’t, I will simply have to ask everyone in this keep including the person you’re trying to keep it from.”

   Panic had Owein clamping a hand over Dorian’s forearm. “Will you keep your voice down. She can’t know.”

   “So, it involves your lovely Seeker.” A grin split across Dorian’s face. “Are we going on a shopping trip, Inquisitor?”

   “No,” Owein quickly shot down before his ideas could run wild. “It’s a long story.”

   “I like long stories.”

   “I’ll tell you on the way.”

   “I can’t wait that long.”

   Owein heaved out a sigh. “In short, I have challenged the Prince of Nevarra to a duel to stop him from trying to force Cassandra into marriage.”

   Dark eyes widened. “Why even do that? Let Cassandra kick his ass all the way back to her home country.”

   “Because it will never stop and I don’t know how far the Prince or his King brother are willing to go to get what they want.” Thinking about it all made Owein’s blood boil once again. “She doesn’t know I’ve done this and can’t or-.”

   “Not only stop you but give you a good ass kicking for standing up on her behalf while putting yourself in needless danger.”

   “That’s putting it mildly.” Looking up, Owein saw understanding in his fellow mage’s dark eyes. He didn’t have to explain the deep rooted need to defend Cassandra or think him daft for trying to when she was clearly capable of doing so herself. He understood that Owein NEEDED to protect his mate at all costs. Dorian didn’t lecture about the needs of the Inquisition over personal matters and feelings. It left Owein to wonder if the business with Dorian’s father had to do with matters of the heart. “I will meet the Prince for a duel at noon in two days, meet with this retainer your family dispatched, and hopefully return without a word to Cassandra.”

    Laughing, Dorian slapped the Inquisitor’s shoulder. “You have no luck, my friend.”

   After working out some more details with Dorian, Owein cut across the courtyard walkway to Cullen’s tower. Perhaps he should wait to let them settle in. An hour didn’t seem that much of time to talk about the mountain that Owein saw between them when they reunited at the main gate. Regardless of how he felt, the Inquisitor knocked and waited. The sooner he finalized all of his plans the less likely Cassandra would find out that something was afoot when he told her of his plan to leave for Redcliff without her.

    The door opened, revealing a freshly healed and almost rejuvenated Cullen. “I thought we weren’t meeting for another hour.”

     “I’ve come here on a different matter. Face looks better,” Owein noted following the Commander into the office. “I’m sorry to disturb you and Hawke, but this matter couldn’t wait.”

   Cullen closed and locked the door before inching closer. “Why are you whispering?”

   “Because I would rather our conversation stay between us.”

   “Olivia is asleep,” Cullen assured rounding his desk to sit, matching Owein’s tone to stop the panic from mounting on the man’s face. “You’re looking a bit anxious, Trevelyan. Something wrong with Cassandra? Is your injury-.”

   “I’m fine. She’s fine.” Owein dropped himself in the chair across from Cullen. He rubbed his tired face taking a mental note to trim his growing beard. “But it seems I won’t get any rest.”

   “Oh.”

   “Josephine didn’t tell you about the letter?”

   Cullen dropped his gaze down to the newly added frame holding the two sketches at the corner of his desk. “I wasn’t in much of a mood for work these last few days.”

   Following the Warrior’s gaze, Owein sat forward his heart filling with sadness that was swirling in his friend’s amber gaze. “Is this her?” He pointed to the drawing of the little girl with a mop of golden curls. “Evelyn?”

   The sadness was replaced by utter pride and joy. Cullen swirled it around to allow Owein a better look. “Yes,” He happily replied studying it himself again for the thousandth time. Looking at the lines on the paper brought up the memory the Cole had showed him. His daughter’s laughter echoed in his head. “Cole drew them both.”

    “She’s beautiful, Cullen.” Owein was surprised by the softness on Cullen’s face. Any mention of the life he lost and Hawke’s ‘death’ always caused the man to harden, to grow angry with himself. Now, there was a light to his eyes. One of happiness with just a small touch of sadness. It seemed in their time away, Cole had found a way to help the Commander. “Kind of looks like Varric.”

    Cullen laughed happy to be free of the weight of his self-hatred. “I should’ve expected to hear you say such a thing.” He fixed the frame back into the proper position. “So, tell me about this letter.”

   “Prince Ferdinand has accepted the terms of my duel,” Owein explained pulling the letter Josephine gave him from the inner pocket of his robe. Glancing up at the hatch for assurance Hawke couldn’t be seen, he handed it over. “Seems he’s agreed and is not so patiently waiting for me at Redcliff. Our Ambassador has worked her magic to keep him from storming the gates of Skyhold.”

   Cullen’s tracked the words on the parchment. “When?”

   “In two days.”

   “Two days?” The volume of Cullen’s voice pitched higher.

   “Luckily there is other business to attend to that has to deal with Dorian.” Owein held up a hand before Cullen could speak. “It’s his place to fill you in on the details of what that business is.”

    “So that’s why you and Coram snuck away every night in the Approach.”

   The sound of Hawke’s voice made Owein jerk around to see her standing at the base of the ladder. “How’d you-.”

   “You and bird boy would always disappear around the same time when Cassandra slept after her watch.” Hawke perched her hip on the edge of her husband’s desk. “I saw you two practicing with swords in the middle of the night.”

  “You didn’t tell Cassandra?” Owein inquired.

   “I thought it was you trying to show off for your Seeker by showing you can finally handle a sword.” She glanced at Cullen a bemused look on her face. “I could tell by his stance you had a hand in training him.”

   “Well…” Cullen didn’t really know how to answer that accusation.

   Saving him, Hawke looked back at Owein. “A duel, eh? Wait until Varric hears about that.” Her smile grew and green eyes began to shine. “You’ll have your own serial in no time. Maker knows he needs some new inspiration since leaving Avielle and her husband Guardsman Donnic in Kirkwall.”

    “Wait.” Owein’s mind shifted momentarily. “Are you saying that the Swords and Shields serial is based on real people? You know them.”

    “Know them! I helped get them together because if left up to Avielle…” Olivia shuddered at the thought of all those failed attempts of the Guard Captain’s courting.

   Recalling the first book, Owein grinned himself. “I swore _an troich_ made all of it up. Especially the dowry.”

   “All true.” Olivia shared in a laugh with her husband. “I can’t believe you’ve read Swords and Sheilds, furball. Didn’t think they had that type of reading in the woods.”

    “Furball, really?” Owein playfully growled. First thing after the duel was getting Varric to change that blighted nickname.

   Olivia shrugged.

    “I was recently introduced to it, actually.”

    Her eyes grew huge and even Cullen seemed to become more interested in the conversation. “Don’t tell me that the Seeker reads them.” Owein didn’t have to say anything. Hawke’s answer was writing on the man’s face. She couldn’t help but bounce on the tips of her toes. “Oh, man! This is just golden! Did you know?”

   “No,” Cullen replied, voice light and dancing with laughter. “I doubt that is a secret many know about Cassandra. I have to say the idea seems farfetched.”

    “Seeker Cassandra. Hero of Orlais and hand of the Divine is a hopeless romantic under all that steel.” Hawke found the knowledge made her like the woman all the more. “Seems you dueling for her heart would be something she would approve of. Even swoon over.”

    Owein couldn’t hold back his scoff. “I don’t think Cassandra swoons, _Gealbhan_.”

   “Probably not.” Olivia gave the Commander’s foot a nudge. “What did you just call me?”

   “Sparrow,” Owein explained and was quick to answer the question in her arched brow, “I’ve heard Varric call you that a time or two. You said so yourself, he has a knack for nicknames.”

   “A Dalish human.” Cocking her head to the side, she studied the man sitting before her. “I bet your Seeker eats it up. The accent, the language, all gets her all hot under the skin.”

    Owein watched amused as Cullen looked up with a mock look of horror and jested with Hawke about him not being enough. The Champion met the jab with one of her own and the two dissolved into light heart laughter. There was comfort between them now. An ease that should’ve been there upon their rekindling. No more guarding. Owein could see it now. Could see the layers of their bond as _anam cara_. The love and affection passing unchecked between them. A delightful development. The pair had been through enough and deserved to finally be happy.

   Hawke noted the way Owein studied them. Saw his deep satisfaction at how they were interacting, unrestrained and pure. She nudged her husband’s foot. “You are going with him, right? To make sure he doesn’t get himself killed?” She found herself rather fond of the mage herself and grateful for his companionship to both her and Cullen and wanted no harm to come to him that she could prevent.

    “Seeing how I’m the one who agreed to train him in the first place, I better. Have to save myself from Cassandra’s wrath if things go south.” Cullen didn’t like leaving her so soon once again, but glad to know Hawke understood his reasonability as not only the Commander of the Inquisition but friend to Owein.  

   Rolling his eyes, Owein pushed to his feet. “Your faith in me is staggering, _Ceannasaí.”_ He waved at them both. “We leave in less than two days so enjoy what time you have. I’ll see you both at the debrief.”

   

 

Translations:

 _M’eudail -_ My Darling

 _mac tire_ \- wolf

 _Anam_ – soul mate/ soul love/ soul friend

 _An troich-_ The Dwarf

 _Gealbhan –_ Sparrow

 _Ceannasaí-_ Commander

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I really think the Duel part fits Cassandra's romantic heart.


End file.
